The sound of Zyran's laugh rippled through the square like a stone dropped into still water.
It wasn't a normal laugh. Not the kind that came when someone told a joke or tripped over their own feet. No—this was low, rich, and dangerous. A laugh that always, always meant something was about to go horribly wrong.
Isabella's spine stiffened instantly. She knew that laugh. She'd heard it enough times to know trouble was about to unfold. And sure enough, Zyran straightened, his smirk growing wider as his voice rang out over the crowd.
"Look at this!" Zyran's voice boomed across the festival square, smooth and theatrical, spreading his arms wide like he'd been born for the stage. He might as well have had a drumroll behind him. "Three men—our glorious king, our gentle teacher, and, of course, myself—fighting for one woman. And who is she? The one and only Goddess Isabella!"
