Jaenor's aura flared, subtle but undeniable, like a storm pressing against the walls.
"I said this before those crappy nobles in that ball," he said bluntly, drawing a ripple of laughter through the hall.
"And I'll say it again now, to the ones who actually deserve to hear it: I will return House Arkwright to its former glory. I'll drag it back to what it once was—no matter who I must break, bury, or burn through to get there."
His last words struck like thunder.
The people rose to their feet instinctively, eyes wide, hearts beating like drums—
Then, as if pulled by one force, they all dropped to their knees again, deeper this time.
A wave of devotion swept through the hall.
Emma's chest swelled with emotion. Morgana's lips curved in a rare smile, proud and dangerous.
And Jaenor stood above them, not as a boy finding his place—
—but as the returning heir of a once-great house.
Corvina studied him for several more seconds.
