I nodded, not trusting myself to speak, and silence stretched between us.
“I should go,” I finally said, easing toward the door. “My advisors are expecting me, and you need to work.”
“Of course.” She lifted her teacup in a salute. “Go be kingly. I’ll be here, turning water into wine. Or possibly just making it sparkle.”
“I’d like to see that. Later, perhaps?”
Her smile lit something in my chest that would burn for this woman until my final day. “Yes, later.”
The dining room fell silent when I entered. My advisors and family members sat at their usual places at the table, clutching goblets of warmed blood, a few picking at plates of rare meat. Their conversations died mid-sentence, replaced by the scrape of chairs as everyone rose and bowed.
“Sit.” I took my place at the head of the table.
“We didn’t believe you’d be dining,” Lord Broadworthy said with a subtle upward twitch of his lips. “Or we would’ve waited.”
“Yes.”
A servant hurried forward with a crystal goblet on a silver tray.
Taking it, I raised it, meeting each pair of eyes around the table. No one spoke. Lord Rathley cleared his throat, then immediately looked as though he regretted drawing attention to himself when my gaze snapped to him.
“Do you have something to say?” I kept my voice mild.
“No, Your Majesty.” He studied his goblet with complete fascination.
I sipped the blood, letting the silence stretch. Lady Aragorn kept her eyes downcast. Uncle Prentiss examined the ceiling as though it contained the secrets of the universe. He could’ve left with my aunt, but if I knew him, he wouldn’t want to miss out on the chance to scoop up gossip he could share with his wife. I’d do my best not to provide it to him.
I set my empty goblet down with a click.
Half the table flinched.
“I trust everyone slept well?” I asked.
They murmured assent, none sounding convincing.
“Excellent.” I rose. “I have matters to attend to. Good day.”
As I left, I could almost taste the relief in the room. My shadows trailed behind me in a warning.
The council chamber was equally silent when I arrived, though for different reasons. The round table dominated the room, four high-backed chairs equally spaced around it. Light filtered through tall windows along one wall, casting elongated rectangles across the polished wood.
Lord Broadworthy entered first, followed by Rathley and Lady Aragorn. They took their seats, arranging papers in front of them with intense care.
“Shall we begin?” I asked once they’d settled.
Lord Rathley nodded. “Your Majesty, we have several matters to discuss, but first—” He hesitated, glancing at the others.
“Yes?”
Lady Aragorn leaned forward, her face creased with concern. “The display near the maze yesterday, Your Majesty. It was unseemly.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Truly?”
“Such public displays are not…” Lord Rathley paused, blinking fast, not meeting my eye. “Traditional.”
“Neither is peace with the witches,” I said. “Yet, here we are.”
“Indeed.” Lady Aragorn’s lips pressed together. “Which brings us to the matter of the treaty timeline.”
