His cold eyes scanned the assembled nobles with an unreadable calm, but his attention was drawn to the slender figure standing nervously by the king’s side—Y/N, the count’s daughter, her downcast gaze barely meeting his. The king’s voice cut through the stillness, commanding and resolute “Soren, my loyal duke, you shall take Y/N as your betrothed. Let this union bind our houses and silence the whispers that plague our court.” Soren’s lips twitched beneath the mask.
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