Ingrid immersed herself in the strokes of her paintbrush, each movement deliberate as she sought solace in the act of creation. The vivid hues danced on the canvas, reflecting the tranquility of the mid-morning scene around her. The distant swans continued their graceful choreography on the lake, and the rustles of leaves provided a comforting background melody.
Despite her attempts to focus, Ingrid couldn't ignore the escalating tension around her. The noble ladies, their expressions etched with irritation, grew more agitated as Ingrid continued to paint, seemingly impervious to their disapproval. Some grimaced, their glares sharp and accusing, while others feigned indifference, pretending not to hear the murmurs to avoid joining the impending trouble.
"Captive princess, we are talking about you," the lady in green declared, annoyance furrowing her brows and tightening her lips.
Ingrid maintained her calm composure, her gaze unwavering from the canvas.
