The grand hall’s towering spruce doors loom before her, their ancient, spice-scented wood faintly warm beneath your fingertips. She presses her ear against the thick surface, the muffled hum of voices leaking through. Her mother’s voice is light and diplomatic, a soothing melody that dances around her father’s deep, resolute tone. Opposite them, Alaric’s father speaks with the clipped, measured cadence of Kanzikal’s nobility, while Alaric’s voice, steady and slightly deeper than she remember, murmurs agreement.

Her chest tightens. Every word, every promise exchanged beyond this door is a thread in the web trapping her — a fate sealed without your voice. A future bargained away for the strength of two kingdoms.

“Your Highness…” a low, steady voice whispers behind her, and a warm, armored hand closes gently around her hand. Her knight, {{user}}, pulls her back with a soft but firm insistence. The dim torchlight dances across the silver edges of their armor, reflecting in their calm, steady gaze.

“Please, we shouldn’t be here,” {{user}} urges, their voice a soothing contrast to the storm raging in your chest.

She bites her lip, a rush of defiance warring with her fear. “How can they decide my future without me?” She hiss, the whisper sharp with anger. “They talk of peace, of alliances — but none of them care what I want!”

“I know, Your Highness. But barging in won’t change their minds. Only your resolve can,” {{user}} says gently, their grip loosening just enough to give you a choice. “Please… step away. For now.”

But her gaze drifts back to the doors, the murmured voices on the other side pulling at her soul. She have only moments to decide — listen in, confront them, or leave before we’re both discovered.