I glanced over at Arthur, who looked about as pleased as someone realizing their quiet evening had just been derailed. The sight of him unsettled, eyes flickering between us like he was calculating variables in an equation that suddenly had too many unknowns, sent an unexpected ache through my chest. I'd done this to him—burst into his carefully managed world and scattered his composure.
"Fine," he sighed at last, rubbing the bridge of his nose with the weariness of someone carrying invisible weights. "Let's discuss this properly, since you came running in here."
He turned courteously to Princess Rachel and Princess Seraphina, who both responded with the practiced grace of nobility interrupted mid-conversation. Their gazes settled on me—measured, expectant, carrying an awareness that made my skin prickle with discomfort.
The five of us moved to a quieter corner of the hall, where shadows fell more kindly and the furniture spoke of serious conversations held in hushed tones.
