But it had rung!
It wasn't a loud, clear chime, just a faint, low hum!
The three Cardinals' eyes flew open in unison, and they exchanged a look of shock.
Saint Cyril's knuckles whitened as he tightened his grip on the Scepter.
Rosalyn opened her eyes. Her gaze remained as ethereal as ever, as if the faint sound had nothing to do with her.
She withdrew her hand and silently stepped back.
The atmosphere in the great hall changed in an instant.
A tide of low gasps and whispers rose from the crowd.
The fifth, Amilia, and the sixth, Matilda, stepped forward, but the Ancient Bell gave no further response.
As Matilda stepped back, tears were already glistening in her jade-green eyes.
Finally, it was Elizabeth's turn.
She could feel everyone's gaze fixed upon her—some scrutinizing, some expectant, some dismissive.
Her heart hammered against her ribs like a war drum, and her palms were cold and damp.
She took a deep breath, forcing herself to calm down.
