Arthur did not hurry his steps as he left the restaurant.
He had walked down the corridor leading to the Inner Court countless times. The carpet patterns, the portraits of successive Kings hanging on the walls, and the overly neatly trimmed lawns outside the windows were all too familiar to him.
Because of this, he was able to draw his attention away from external things and replay the recent conversation in his mind.
He did not dislike Flora.
Quite the opposite, his impression of her was always proper and clear.
Restrained, cautious, knowing when to advance and retreat, aware of her position within the court system, never crossing boundaries, and rarely flamboyant. She was a traditional British lady as traditional as can be, impeccable as a Lady, and reliable as an ally.
But the problem was, over the past few years, the closeness between him and Flora was the product of precise calculation.
