"What do you mean, Princess Iryna has been poisoned?!"
The doors of the royal study rattled against their frames as King Alderon slammed his palms flat onto the desk. The monarch's face was a map of sheer disbelief, his breathing ragged as he stared at his son.
Yerel stood perfectly straight before his father, his posture unyielding despite the absolute disaster currently unfolding under their roof. "The ballroom has been successfully sealed, Father, and the guests are being escorted to the palace's private guest wings as we speak. But the immediate crisis is not in the hall. It is in the eastern wing. Princess Iryna collapsed, and the state of her condition is... catastrophic."
King Alderon didn't waste another second demanding details. With a sharp wave of his hand, he signaled his personal elite guards, and the two royal figures sprinted down the corridors of the palace, their heavy capes billowing behind them.
