The palace halls of Makana had always carried an elegance that whispered of old power and silent wars. Today, those same corridors felt narrower, louder in their silence, the marbled floors too pristine, the courtiers too rehearsed in their politeness.
Saif walked a step behind Faris, surrounded by gilded walls and draped velvets that mocked his composure. Every breath he took felt stifled, as if it wasn’t air he breathed but tension.
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