Keiser closed his eyes, his back pressed against the stone frame of the doorway, the chill of it seeping into his shoulders. He remained still, outwardly calm, though he could feel the storm brewing on the other side of the door. Olga was there, her presence sharp and bristling, her anger like the sharp end of an arrow being sharpened too close to the ear.
She had been simmering since the moment the princess crossed the threshold and allowed Mr. Genevra to follow her into the parlor. That room was sacred, the same one where she had first welcomed them to the temple, a place for those the princess deemed trustworthy.
Now the sixth princess had invited a man she just met inside. All of this was for a plan the tenth prince had concocted, apparently knowing something that a knight who lived in the capital did not. The fact that the princess humored him made her blood boil.
