The meeting had finally been adjourned.
For once, the usual parade of sycophants, lackeys, and self-serving nobles who practically fell over themselves to praise the king had held their tongues. A rare sight indeed. The king's court was meant to be his fortress, his sanctuary where his authority was unquestionable—but today? Today, there had been cracks.
And I, Duke Remiro, had put them there.
I fought to contain my smirk as I exited the grand hall, my every step deliberate, exuding control and confidence. The atmosphere in the room had been charged with unspoken tension, and the king had barely contained his rage. I could still picture it—his jaw clenched so tightly I thought his teeth might crack, his fingers digging into the gilded arms of his throne as the whispers of dissent grew louder, as his long-time allies suddenly found themselves hesitant to grovel.