(Rosaline POV)
The council chamber doors closed behind us with a sound that echoed longer than it should have.
Not because the hall was large—but because my thoughts were loud.
The murmur of nobles faded as attendants dispersed, the tension of the morning court lingering like smoke trapped beneath silk drapes. My legs ached faintly, still not fully recovered, and yet my mind refused rest.
Arthur slowed his pace beside me, his hand hovering near my back as though prepared to catch me should I falter.
"Are you all right?" he asked quietly.
"I am," I replied, and this time it wasn't a lie.
He studied my face for a moment longer than necessary, then exhaled. "I've been summoned to Elyra's chambers. She's been restless since the council."
I smiled faintly. "Go. I'll take a short walk in the gardens."
"You don't need an escort—" he began, then stopped himself.
We shared a look.
Not prince and fiancée.
Not allies.
