CHAPTER 173
The stillness after Ezekiel's words was suffocating. It hung in the air like the moment before a storm breaks. No one spoke. No one dared.
Dravin sat back down slowly, analyzing what he just heard.
King Oleo's lips pressed into a thin, bloodless line, his eyes narrowing just enough to betray the flicker of unease in him. His fingers drummed once on the armrest of his seat, then stilled, as if he realized the sound would shatter the quiet.
Drendall's sharp gaze stayed locked on her brother, but her expression faltered for a fraction of a second. Her mouth tightened—not in surrender, but in the grim acknowledgement that his fury was not feigned.
Prince Levi, ever the one to mask discomfort with levity, shifted in his seat. This time, there was no smirk, no mocking quip—only a stillness that seemed almost unnatural for him.
