Introducing the Royal family

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As Amira stepped into her opulent chamber, she hesitantly sank into the plush bed, stealing fleeting glances around the unfamiliar room.

After bidding farewell, Matthew departed, and moments later, three graceful maids entered to assist her in preparing for the evening.

The highlight of her day had been a lavish bath, meticulously prepared by one of the maids. Submerging herself in the warm water, she felt its soothing embrace relieve the tension in her weary muscles, offering solace after her arduous journey.

Events were unfolding swiftly, and she struggled to keep pace with the whirlwind of activity.

The queen's refined appearance defied the well-known adage not to judge a book by its cover.

The picturesque beauty of Oaken Vale had left an indelible imprint on her, challenging the preconceived notions of those who had never ventured into the region.

As she marveled at the natural wonders, she couldn't shake off her uneasiness about the castle's inhabitants.

Upon returning to her chamber, Amira was promptly attended to by the maids, who meticulously tended to her attire with a serene efficiency.

Despite the bustling activity around her, she felt isolated and vulnerable, like a delicate porcelain doll being handled with indifference.

She was adorned in a resplendent white gown embellished with delicate pearls that glistened like celestial stars against the fabric.

The gown gracefully embraced her figure, with intricate lace detail adorning her neckline and cascading down her back, accentuating her creamy complexion.

Her hair was elegantly swept back and fastened with a pin at the nape of her neck, while wisps of hair delicately framed her face, adding to the captivating and graceful aura she emanated.

Two of the maids concluded their work and exited the room, leaving one maid behind to attend to Amira's needs.

Amira turned to the maid and courteously requested,

"Could I please have a cup of water?" The maid nodded, gliding to the bedside table to pour water into a crystal glass.

She then presented it to Amira, who eagerly drank, soothing her parched throat after a long day.

"Could you enlighten me about the palace? I am eager to learn more," Amira inquired, attempting not to overwhelm the maid.

"What specific information are you seeking?" she asked.

Amira leaned in and said,

"I was hoping to glean more about the royal family. To be well-prepared for my forthcoming audience with them," Amira explained, her lips curling into a gentle smile.

Upon entering the stately hall, Amira observed the vibrant ambiance, with numerous individuals engrossed in conversations.

Soft music made the atmosphere more light and joyful but Amira felt nothing less than deject and fear.

She was escorted to the elevated dais, where she took her seat, one of two positioned chairs. The second seat remained unoccupied as guests approached her with polite yet insincere smiles.

"Amidst the purportedly cordial greetings, one of the elegantly attired ladies couldn't resist interjecting, her voice saturated with feigned sweetness.

"Oh, you must feel so fortunate to have captivated the first prince's heart."

Nora, with a hint of disdain in her voice, leaned in and whispered.

"That's Lady Patricia for you, the daughter of Duke Alberto. Her family may own extensive lands, but it's all just a facade."

Maintaining her composure, Amira chose to remain silent, unruffled by the shallow mockery directed towards her by the ladies.

The grand hall fell into hushed anticipation as the heralds heralded the imminent arrival of the royal family.

The king made his majestic entrance first, his imposing presence accentuated by the opulent crimson cloak draping his broad shoulders and the imposing crown atop his head.

The assembled courtiers and guests bowed reverently, acknowledging his authority and stature.

Following closely behind, the queen glided into the room, her attire resembling the gentle flow of a meandering stream with its rich brown hues. A dainty crown adorned her head, mirroring the king's, exuding an air of graceful dignity and poise.

She entered accompanied by three of her children.

The crown prince Lloyd, a mirror image of his father, sported blond hair akin to the king's, his chest puffed up, a testament to years of rigorous training and battles.

His striking eyes, a distinct hazel, captivated all those around him. A smirk played on his lips, intrigued by the reactions to his presence.

Following closely behind was his sister, Princess Novalie, whose visage and demeanor exuded a delicate charm akin to fine roses.

Composed and elegant, her chestnut hair was elegantly secured with a pin, her gentle pink lips forming a demure smile as her lashes fluttered in the presence of the guests.

Beside her, a young prince, no older than ten, possessed vivid brown locks and eyes resembling a feline, much like his mother, exuding a regal air even at such a tender age.