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Morning.
Wyfkeep Castle, Wyf-fellon.
Wyfn-Garde.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~}~~~
"Let us eat" the king declared after everyone was seated and the maids stood by the wall corners.
Salviana refused to glance at her husband and breakfast was soon to begin.
But the clattering of utensils paused momentarily as all eyes turned to Spencer Velthorne, the second prince of Wyfn-Garde, who stood up from his seat with an awkward grin. His golden-blonde hair, longer than both of his brothers, framed his face in soft waves, the ends curling just past his shoulders. He wore a deep burgundy doublet, embroidered with silver thread along the cuffs and collar, complemented by a tailored waistcoat that accentuated his broad, muscular frame. His hazel eyes gleamed, but there was a distinct unevenness to his gaze—his left eye, partially blind from an old injury, failed to track as sharply as the right.
