The silence in the room was suffocating, heavier than the air before a storm. Alexandria's fingers hovered above the two sheets of paper on the table, her hands trembling faintly as her gaze darted between them. Her lips moved silently, whispering a prayer under her breath.
Florian could see the faintest sheen of sweat on her brow, her usually composed expression crumbling under the weight of the decision before her.
She glanced up at Heinz, searching for reassurance, but the king's expression was as impenetrable as stone. His silver eyes held no warmth, only an eerie calm, as though this situation—a gamble with his own life—was nothing but a casual afternoon pastime. He was the picture of unshaken confidence, a man who had faced death too many times to fear it anymore.
