Once I stepped outside of the royal guest room, my eyes immediately found Oliver's familiar figure, but my breath caught when I noticed the man standing beside him.
King Francis Lorendia himself.
I recognised him from some painting I saw hanging.
Even from a distance, he had quite a presence.. The afternoon sunlight caught the golden threads woven through his deep burgundy doublet, each stitch worth more than our entire village could hope to earn in a harvest season.
His blonde hair, perfectly styled despite the day's proceedings and his amber gleamed bright.
Laurence Staple walked a respectful half-step behind them.
They passed by me without so much as a glance, their conversation muted but intense. I caught fragments—something about trade routes and northern territories—before they disappeared into the castle's depths where Queen Emma of Briaran awaited.
What could bring two such powerful monarchs together in secret? An alliance perhaps? A marriage arrangement?
