The rhythm of Elizabeth's footsteps echoed through the hall like an out-of-control metronome.
From one side to the other.
And back again.
And again.
The sound of her heels against the polished floor filled the room with an insistent, almost irritating cadence, contrasting completely with the serenity that place usually held. The tall windows let in the morning light in soft beams, illuminating the elegant furniture, the carefully chosen tapestries, and the central table where maps and documents remained organized… untouched.
Because, at that moment, Elizabeth couldn't concentrate on any of that.
Absolutely nothing.
"Two weeks."
She stopped abruptly in the middle of the hall, her arms crossed tightly, her fingers pressing lightly against her own arm as if trying to contain something internal.
"Two weeks have already passed."
Her voice wasn't loud.
But it was heavy.
Tense.
