Demerzel sat at her usual spot in the council chamber, her face as still and inscrutable as ever, listening intently as discussions whirled around her. She had always been the focus of attention—her quiet demeanor, her calculated grace. But lately, there had been whispers. Comments, passed along with the air of harmless suggestion, but never quite innocuous.
“I’ve noticed,” Councilor Vaylen began during a casual evening session, “that many women of high status have adopted a new fashion: veils. A niqab, some call it. It’s a sign of mystery...and power.”
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