Javier stood beside Annaliese, their hands raised in unity as they faced the crowd below. The cheers rang out, but he barely registered them, his focus entirely on the sea of faces beneath him. He searched for any sign of weakness, any indication that the facade they had built might falter, but none appeared. They adored them, at least the idea of them. The illusion was perfect, and that was all that mattered.
He did not glance at her, but her presence was undeniable. Annaliese's stiff posture conveyed a message as clear as the daylight: she was no more willing to play this game than he was. Yet she had no choice. None of them did. She was the queen, and he was the king. Bound by duty, by power, and by all that had led them to this moment.
"Smile," he commanded, their joined hands lifting in the air to acknowledge the crowd. Annaliese shifted her hand in his grip, but he did not release her.
