"First the Solaric Princess takes a sip of wine and nearly dies before her guards can even draw their swords," Lord Marbury muttered, his voice a low, gravelly vibration as he swirled the amber liquid in his crystal glass. He was a broad-shouldered Alpha from the coastal marches, his usual arrogant posture completely gone as he leaned heavily against the marble mantelpiece. "And now? A dead body found in the forest before the noon bells can even ring. It's an absolute mess."
"Hush, Marbury! Don't say things like that so loudly," a younger earl hissed from the velvet sofa, his face a pasty, frantic white as he wrung his hands together. He looked toward the heavy oak doors as if expecting the Imperial Guard to burst through with leg irons. "The King's mages are probably tracking every whisper through the flues. Just... pray for the best. The treaty isn't dead yet."
