A short while later, a carriage rolled to a smooth stop before the grand palace hall. Lanterns shaped like floating stars drifted in the air, illuminating the marble steps leading to the entrance.
Michael stepped out first, offering his hand to Arianne. She accepted with practiced grace, and together they walked toward the towering golden doors as attendants bowed deeply.
The moment the doors opened, a wave of warm light, soft music, and refined perfume washed over them.
Yet the instant Michael stepped inside, his expression barely shifted—but internally, he felt suffocated.
Everything looked elegant. The chandeliers, the polished floors, the expensive gowns, the noble families gathered in circles of influence.
But beneath the beauty, he sensed it.
Superficiality.
Layers and layers of it.
