Chapter 100:

The study is a sanctuary of shadows, the dimly lit space a haven from the harsh realities of the estate. Flickering candlelight dances along the stone walls, casting long, distorted shadows that writhe and shift with the movement of the flames. The scent of old parchment and polished wood, a familiar aroma of knowledge and power, lingers in the air, mixing with the faintest trace of something floral—probably the Queen's preferred incense, a subtle hint of lavender and rose.

I step inside, careful to keep my expression neutral, my posture relaxed yet alert. The King and Queen are seated behind the grand oak desk, its surface gleaming with a polished sheen, their faces unreadable, masks of regal composure. But I can see the difference, the subtle shifts in their demeanor that betray their inner turmoil.