Elara stood up from her grand chair, her midnight-black velvet gown cascading smoothly around her ankles. Julian rose a split second later, executing his standard, effortless bow. His nonchalant mask was fully restored now; he looked completely relaxed, a slight, lazy smirk touching his lips as he gave her a polite nod of dismissal.
"If you will excuse me, Your Highness," Julian murmured, his baritone voice smooth and entirely devoid of the raw agony from moments before. "I believe the foreign ministry expects me to exchange pleasantries with the Baltic envoys. Wouldn't want to disrupt the diplomatic timeline."
Without waiting for her reply, he stepped away from the high table, tucking his hands casually into his pockets as he strolled down the side steps of the dais. He moved with a slow, unbothered grace, completely ignoring the sharp, territorial glares directed at his back by the two commanders standing at the base.
