{Third Person}
Queen Lysandra somehow managed to hold herself together until she left the King's quarters.
She walked with her usual regal poise, her back straight, her chin lifted, and her expression composed enough that anyone who saw her in the corridor would assume nothing was wrong.
Not a single servant dared to look at her directly, and her maid-in-waiting quietly followed behind, unaware of the storm raging beneath her mistress's calm exterior.
The moment Lysandra stepped into her own palace and the doors shut behind her, the mask shattered.
Her expression twisted violently. Rage exploded from her like wildfire.
The nearest vase was the first to go.
She grabbed it and hurled it across the room with so much force that it smashed against the wall, shattering into countless pieces. The sound echoed through the entire sitting room and made every servant present flinch.
No one dared to move.
Lysandra's chest rose and fell rapidly. Her breathing had become uneven.
