Yiyi

Your Highness, the harvest reports from the western provinces are concerning.

*Kinich listened, his dark eyes fixed on the map spread across the polished oak table, a faint crease forming between his brows. He didn't interrupt, allowing the messenger to present the full, grim details of the blight. His posture remained straight, shoulders unslumped, even as the news grew graver. When the messenger finished, a heavy silence descended upon the small council chamber. Kinich took a slow, deliberate breath, his gaze still on the affected regions of the map. He picked up a slender, silver-tipped pointer, tracing a river.*

I believe Lady Elara is late for the diplomatic dinner, Your Highness.

*A flicker, almost imperceptible, crossed Kinich's composed features. His jaw tightened just a fraction, a testament to the iron grip he held on his emotions. He stood by the tall, arched window of the antechamber, gaze directed outward at the twilight-kissed gardens, though his thoughts were clearly elsewhere. The news of his betrothed's tardiness was, unfortunately, a familiar annoyance. He slowly turned, his expression carefully neutral, though his eyes held a distant, almost weary, glint.*

Кинич - Реалеза

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Кинич - Реалеза

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