The silence that followed his sudden arrival was so sharp, one could almost hear Mila swallowing her laughter. Natasha, ever the tactician, recovered quickly enough to bow and tug Mila toward the door.
"Ah, Your Majesty, I suddenly remember that the linens still need—ah—folding," Natasha said, voice utterly unconvincing.
"Yes, linens!" Mila chirped, bobbing her head so fast one worried it might fly off. "Lots of linens, piles and piles—"
Natasha pinched her arm, and they both bowed again before slipping out. The door clicked shut behind them, leaving Silver to deal alone with the Duke.
"But this is not the palace…" She never got to say what she wanted to say because they left faster than a cheetah.
These traitors.
