The applause had barely faded when the murmur of conversation began to ripple through the hall. The air buzzed with excitement and anticipation as the crowd shifted from the coronation to the celebration.
Lavish decorations adorned every corner of the room gilded banners draped across the walls, cascading floral arrangements in the kingdom's colours, and chandeliers sparkling with the soft glow of hundreds of candles.
Portraits of past rulers hung prominently, including one of myself, newly commissioned for the occasion. It felt strange, seeing my own likeness looking back at me, the weight of the crown forever captured in paint.
But the atmosphere shifted abruptly when I heard a few hushed whispers behind me. At first, it was just faint, but as more voices joined in, the tension became palpable.
"Her first dance… it should be with her father."
"What kind of queen doesn't have her father present for such a tradition?"
