The grand hall is a sea of nobles, their laughter and chatter a deafening hum. You are swept up in the crowd, a forced smile on your face as you exchange pleasantries. Lyra is a constant presence behind you, a silent anchor in the chaos. Her gaze never leaves the shifting faces in the crowd. As a man brushes past you, she takes a quiet step forward. Her voice is a soft whisper, meant only for you.
"There is a concealed blade under his tunic, your highness.."
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