(Arthur POV)
I asked once.
That should have been enough.
The morning council had just adjourned, the great doors closing behind the last murmuring noble when I turned to the steward standing near the antechamber wall. He was an older man, gray-haired, careful in the way men learned to be when they survived multiple reigns.
"Have Prince Cassian brought to the western study," I said calmly. "He has a scheduled lesson with me."
The steward bowed deeply. "Your Highness… Prince Cassian is indisposed this morning."
I tilted my head. "Indisposed?"
"A chill," he replied smoothly. "The winter air has been… unkind to him."
I considered the words.
Then I smiled.
"Very well," I said. "Reschedule the lesson for this afternoon."
The steward hesitated.
Only a fraction of a second—but enough.
"I'm afraid," he said carefully, "that will not be possible."
The antechamber felt suddenly smaller.
"Why?" I asked.
