Ryanna’s face darkened, her expression a mask of cold determination. She stood tall, her voice steady as she addressed the soldiers. “Take her away—now.”
Without a word, the soldiers moved quickly, dragging Annie away as she continued to resist, her cries growing faint as they distanced themselves from the scene.
“Ryanna, I swear, I’m innocent!” Annie’s voice faltered, her words barely audible as they disappeared into the distance, leaving only an echo of her desperation behind.
Ryanna’s expression softened, a subtle shift in her demeanor as she turned toward Lois. With a gentle smile, she spoke with quiet sincerity. “Miss Boyle, I truly regret how things unfolded. Please forgive the misunderstanding.”
As a princess, Ryanna rarely took the initiative to apologize, making this gesture all the more meaningful. Lois understood the weight of the apology and knew that, given the circumstances, it was not the moment for any pretense.
Choosing to meet the gesture with equal sincerity, Lois quickly responded, “There’s no need for apologies. What matters most is that the misunderstanding has been cleared up.”
Ryanna’s smile deepened, and her gaze softened as she looked at Lois, her words carefully chosen. “If you have the time in the future, I’d be delighted to have you visit the palace more often.”
It was more than just an invitation; it was an opportunity—one that was rare and significant. For someone of Lois’s background, such an offer held much weight. A personal invitation from the princess was not something to be taken lightly.
Katelyn, who had been quietly observing the scene, couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow. The intricate web of palace intrigue seemed to grow more tangled by the minute.
Vincent’s gaze softened as he leaned closer to Katelyn, his voice a quiet murmur meant for her ears alone, yet carrying just enough weight to reach the others. “Does it still hurt?” he asked, his tone laced with worry.
Katelyn offered a faint smile, shaking her head. “Much better,” she replied, her voice steady but tired.
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Vincent’s concern lingered in his eyes as he turned to the King, his posture respectful yet firm. “Forgive me, Your Majesty, but I must take her now. She needs proper rest.”
The King studied Katelyn’s pale face, her exhaustion evident. After a moment, he gave a slow nod. “Of course, Miss Bailey. Go and recover your strength.”
Katelyn dipped her head in acknowledgment, her movements delicate, as though even the slightest effort drained her.
Ryanna stepped forward, her expression a mix of concern and calculation. “Katelyn,” she began, her voice warm but deliberate. “Would you like me to arrange an escort for you? It’s no trouble at all.” Her offer was polite, yet beneath it lay a subtle desire to secure Katelyn’s goodwill.
Katelyn shook her head slightly, too drained to explain herself. Vincent, noticing her exhaustion, spoke gently but with quiet authority. “No, thank you. I’ll take her back.”
Ryanna paused momentarily, her expression unreadable as she observed the exchange. Her eyes flickered with something—perhaps doubt, perhaps concern—but she chose not to voice it, leaving the air heavy with unspoken words.
The King, ever perceptive to Ryanna and Vincent’s delicate dynamics, broke the silence with a measured tone. “Mr. Adams, take care on your journey back.”
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