The steady rhythm of approaching boots broke the quiet atmosphere they had build. From the shadowed entrance stepped a tall man dressed in black and silver, his bearing as rigid as the marble columns themselves. His hair, streaked faintly with iron at the temples, was neatly combed back, and his sharp eyes betrayed nothing of warmth.
Ilaria recognized him at once. It was the King's personal aide. The man who seemed to hover at her father-in-law's side like an extension of his will every time she saw the King outside the comfort of his chamber. The man's presence was enough to silence even the most restless hall.
"Your Highness," he bowed respectfully to the both of them before turning to Levan, his voice carrying the weight of order without needing to say more. "His Majesty, the King, requests your presence."
Levan inclined his head, a statue carved of composure. He gave the aide a single nod. "Very well."
