The crosscurrent of conflicting proposals

When urgent knocks reverberated against the door, Lady de Lanark instinctively stepped away from the Crown Prince, her heart drumming an anxious melody in her ribcage.

"Lady Adelaide," Egon's bass voice rumbled from behind the door.

A quiver of unease crawled down her backbone. How did he know that she was here?

Claude — ever composed and unfazed — seemed unperturbed by the interruption. He pressed his index finger against his lips, his eyes filled with silent mischief as he winked at her, effortlessly blending into the room's shadows before disappearing through the concealed door in the wall as if he had never crossed the threshold.

As Egon's impatient knocks resonated through the door once more, Adela swiftly tidied her hair. "Come in," she called out, her voice betraying a hint of unease.

He entered with waves of simmering anger, his penetrating gaze sweeping across the room before locking onto her with a piercing glare.