The moment the steward's voice echoed through the grand banquet hall, a hush swept over the assembled guests a ripple of anticipation.
Elysia felt it as a tingle along her arms, a subtle tightening of the hand Malvoria still held in hers.
This was more than custom or pageantry; the exchange of gifts on a royal child's first birthday was a rite older than any of their kingdoms, heavy with expectation and meaning.
It was, Elysia thought, one of those moments where even the smallest gesture became history.
Kaelith, perched between her mothers, squirmed in her chair, eyes round with delight and awe as the first gifts were carried forward.
Servants, dressed in midnight blue and silver, formed a respectful line, each bearing something wrapped in colored silk or nestled in velvet-lined boxes.
Elysia caught Malvoria's eye—saw the warmth and pride shining there, tempered with a pinch of nervousness. For all her strength, Malvoria was never fully at ease with these spectacles.
