"Do you think this might pose a threat to the princess?"
The king's lips twitched, almost into a smile—but not quite.
"He's protective of Grace," Lester murmured. "Doesn't talk much unless spoken to, but never lets Grace out of his line of sight. He might keep quiet, for her sake."
Meanwhile at the same time, Queen Aurelia shut the heavy doors of her private chambers with a soft click, her cloak still drawn tight around her despite the rising warmth of morning. She had slipped back into the palace unnoticed—or so she believed.
The mirror caught her reflection as she passed: regal, composed, and cold as glass. But beneath the veil of poise was a quiet chaos that scratched at her throat like a trapped bird.
She tossed the cloak onto the nearest chair and began to remove the rest of her outer garments with mechanical precision—gloves, girdle, hairpins… until her hand went to the inner seam of her bodice.
Her fingers froze.
The pin.
