"Trust in this old man of yours," my father said, his voice brimming with confidence as he looked at me, a mischievous glint in his eyes. I narrowed mine in response, suspicious. He had brought me to the royal palace today, and I knew there was more to it than he was letting on. But with that sparkle of determination, I knew arguing was pointless. My father had his mind made up, and I had little choice but to go along with whatever he had planned.
I sighed, resigned to whatever fate awaited me in this ornate prison of a room. The luxurious decor, plush furniture, and intricate designs screamed of wealth and power. Yet none of it made me feel any more comfortable. Perhaps because of the company I was forced to keep.
Rolland.
Of all people.
