Garius's expression hardened, the faint smirk gone, replaced by a calm yet unyielding severity. His gaze lingered first on the royal advisor, then on General Gilmon.
"You two," he said, voice low but commanding.
"Y....yes, Count Garius?" Gilmon stammered, the memory of past failures heavy in his tone.
The advisor inclined his head in silence, unease plain in his eyes.
Garius gave them nothing more than a glance, his silence sharper than any rebuke. His eyes cut past them, fixing on Kliatana instead.
The weight of the room shifted.
"Kliatana," he said, stripping her of title, voice like stone against iron. "Answer me plainly. Will you submit to become that bloated duke's wife? Will you take his hand, wear his crown, and bind yourself to him only to appease the law?"
The question hung like a blade above her neck.
Kliatana froze, her hands tightening in her lap, fingers fidgeting against each other. Her lips parted, but no words came.
