The heavy oak doors opened quietly as Sir Darian stepped in, pushing a small trolley with a simple meal carefully arranged. The smell of roasted pork and fresh herbs filled the air as he approached.
His boots clicked softly on the marble floor, halting mid-step at the sight of Sylteena and Philip hunched over a flood of parchments, their faces shadowed by candlelight.
He cleared his throat to gain their attention. Sylteena and Philip looked up from their books.
"Your Highness," Darian said with a respectful bow, "Your lunch."
Sylteena blinked twice, unsure what response to make of such a kind gesture. Her lips pulled into a soft smile. "Sir Darian, you didn't have to…"
"I noticed how easily you neglect yourself while buried in studies. So I resorted to my own reasoning," Darian bowed.
"And for that, I am grateful, Sir Darian. That is very thoughtful and sweet of you."
Darian gave a slight smile. "It's the least I could do to serve, Your Highness."
