Daylight slipped gently through the thin curtains of the royal meeting chamber. The polished marble walls gleamed under the sun's touch, while the soft fragrance of rose tea lingered from the porcelain cups set upon the long table. At the far end of the room, King Darius and Queen Caelia sat together—a rare sight, given the rigid schedules and protocols of the crown.
Queen Caelia sipped her tea slowly, her gaze drifting toward the window.
"He is late."
King Darius, still clad in his dark formal robe, crossed his arms across his chest.
"Not unusual. But still… making us wait is his way of rebelling without words."
Caelia turned her head. "You still think he's not ready?"
Darius paused, his eyes fixed on the blue sky beyond the glass. Then he spoke quietly, "It's not about being ready or not. It's about… how deeply he understands that the throne is not just a crown and a title."
The door suddenly swung open.
