The guard's voice, announcing the Emperor's summons, cut through the music and the whispers, bringing the hall to a sudden, absolute silence.
Every eye turned to Daphne.
A cold dread washed over her. This was it.
The moment she had fought so hard to avoid. A direct command from the Emperor could not be refused.
With a slow, graceful step, she began to walk toward the dais.
As she approached, the Emperor's gaze was upon her, studying her with a calculating gleam in his eyes.
But it was Prince Alaric's gaze that truly held her. He watched with a powerful mix of fierce protectiveness and quiet concern.
When she reached the dais, she curtsied low.
The Emperor smiled, "My Lady," he began, his voice echoing through the silence. "Your presence has caused quite a stir. I find myself most curious. Before you honor us further, tell me, whose daughter are you?"
Daphne straightened, her voice soft but steady. "Your Majesty, I am Daphne Thomas, daughter of the Duke Thomas."
A collective gasp went through the crowd.
The whispers immediately shifted from "who is she?" to the reality of who she was.
The Duke's sickly daughter, the one who had been sent away, was back, a vision of grace.
The Emperor's smile widened, a calculating look in his eyes. "Lady Daphne. An honor indeed. The court is abuzz with your grace and elegance. It would be a great disappointment to us all if your talents were to remain hidden behind that veil. Would you grace us with a performance?"
"Your Majesty is too kind," Daphne replied, her voice steady and clear. "I would be honored to perform for the court. I shall play an instrument and sing."
A ripple of surprise went through the crowd.
They had expected a simple dance, not a performance of music and song.
She walked to the center of the hall, the weight of a thousand stares a physical presence on her shoulders.
She placed the seven stringed zither which the servants had provided on her lap and began to play.
Her fingers plucked at the strings, the sound a mournful yet powerful melody.
As she played, she sang of the war and the bravery of the Skyblade knights, weaving a ballad of their courage and sacrifice.
As she performed, her family was as captivated as the rest of the court.
Duke Thomas and Duchess Elizabeth exchanged looks of shock and awe. They had never heard their daughter sing or play.
Aidan's face was in astonishment, and even Finn looked on with a new level of wonder.
When the last note faded, a pin-drop silence fell over the hall.
For a long moment, no one moved, no one spoke.
Then, a single, thunderous clap echoed from the dais. The Emperor was the first to applaud, and the rest of the court followed suit.
From across the hall, the knights of the Skyblade Legion began to cheer, their thunderous applause and shouts of "The General! The General!" and "To the victor, goes the song!" echoing through the hall.
"Magnificent," the Emperor declared, his voice filled with genuine admiration. "Your talent is a true gift, Lady Daphne."
"She is magnificent," Alaric murmured to himself, his gaze fixed on Daphne.
"Your Majesty is too kind," Daphne said, bowing her head.
The Emperor leaned forward. "Now, I believe it is time for the final reveal. The court and I have been patient enough. Remove your veil. Let us see you."
The command was absolute, a final test of her obedience. Daphne's heart plummeted. This was not how it was supposed to happen.
She had hoped the veil would shield her from his attention, that she could remain a beautiful mystery. But the Emperor had seen through her, and her carefully constructed plan lay in ruins at her feet.
The moment she had feared most had arrived. She would have to reveal her face.
Daphne reached up and, with a slow, deliberate motion, untied the silver clasp that held her veil in place.
The sheer silk fell away, revealing her face to the hushed hall.
A collective gasp swept through the crowd.
They were utterly speechless, captivated by the sight of her.
The court had expected a pretty face, but they had not been prepared for this, a beauty so ethereal it seemed to defy description.
Her skin was as flawless as porcelain, her lips a soft rose, and her eyes, a stunning shade of blue, held a depth of wisdom and quiet strength that contradicted her youthful features.
Alaric, from his seat on the dais, felt his breath catch in his throat.
He had remembered her timid, innocent face from years ago, but this woman... she was a work of art, a masterpiece he had never expected.
A powerful, possessive wave washed over him.
His jaw tightened, and he fisted his hands at his sides, the urge to shield her from the thousands of eyes on her a near-physical pain.
He hated that she was getting this much attention. He wanted to lock her away in a place where only he could see her, a selfish, primal instinct that felt both wrong and utterly consuming.
The Emperor, too, was visibly stunned. His expression, which had been one of calculated curiosity, softened into admiration.
He had seen countless beautiful women, but none possessed such a perfect, untouched grace.
He stood from his throne, a rare and spontaneous gesture that shocked the court.
"My goodness," he said, "I understand completely why the Duke and Duchess kept you hidden for so long. To keep such a treasure from the world… it is a crime I can almost forgive."
"From this day forward, I confer upon Lady Daphne Thomas the title of the Most Beautiful Damsel of Eldoria! In recognition of her unparalleled elegance and grace, I grant her a purse of a thousand gold coins."
The title and reward were declarations so bold, it made every noble in the room turn their heads.
The Duke's face, which had been beaming with pride just moments before, now held fear. Lady Elizabeth clutched her husband's arm, her eyes wide with terror.
The Emperor's praise was not a gift; it was a sentence. This public anointing made her a target, a trophy in the dangerous game of court politics.
Alaric's jaw tightened further, and his fists clenched, the jealousy now a searing heat.
The Emperor had not only confirmed his affection for her but had made her a public prize.
The title was a beacon, a challenge to every man who now felt they had a right to her attention. He wanted to scream she was his.
The Empress, however, did not share in the admiration.
A flicker of naked envy crossed her face, a look that spoke of a deep-seated threat. Her lips, fixed in a polite smile, did not reach her cold, calculating eyes.
She had seen her rival.
With all eyes on her, Daphne simply bowed her head, her heart a frantic drum against her ribs.
She had feared this moment, and the reactions of the men who had shaped her fate were proving her fears true.
The Emperor settled back onto his throne, his gaze still fixed on Daphne.
Just when she thought it was over, the Emperor spoke again.
"Lady Daphne," he said, the words a honeyed poison.