Cian and Freya found a quiet corner in the bustling ballroom, away from the prying eyes and curious ears of others. Though a small number of people lingered nearby, the distant hum of conversations helped maintain their privacy, at least to some extent.
Sitting beside her, Cian leaned in slightly, his expression serious yet approachable. Freya's fingers fidgeted in her lap, a mixture of anxiety and anticipation dancing in her eyes. With a deep breath, she finally spoke up, her voice a fragile whisper, "Lord Cian, do you really know what happened to my family?"
Cian's gaze met hers, his tone measured, "I may not have all the intricate details, but I can share what I believe to be the case."
Freya's fingers continued to fidget as doubt crossed her mind, "Can your version be trusted?"
Cian's response carried a hint of intrigue, as if challenging her trust, "Do you have faith in my judgment?"
