The microphones picked up the herald's voice as it rolled across the sound system, clean and crisp:
"Today we recognise before the Empire and its court the Grand Duke and Grand Duchess Fitzgeralt…"
The flash of cameras stuttered like heat lightning from the press gallery at the back. Above the polished marble floor, tall LED panels threw a soft wash of light over the imperial crest. The hall felt less like a cathedral than a high-stakes press conference staged inside a palace, but the tension was the same, with the murmur of dignitaries, the measured clicks of photographers repositioning, and the smell of perfume over fresh wiring.
Mia shifted a half-step aside just as they'd practiced, the rose-quartz dress moving like a ribbon of light against the pale floor. She clasped her hands neatly in front of her, smile composed, eyes alive and scanning, part lady-in-waiting, part comms officer making sure nothing went wrong onstage.
