I requested the private audience for the following afternoon, deliberately choosing my own study rather than the more formal council chamber, wanting the conversation to feel less like political theater and more like the direct, personal warning I actually intended to deliver.
Hasting arrived precisely on time, his usual careful composure intact despite what must have been considerable uncertainty about the audience's actual purpose.
"Your Majesty," he said, bowing with correct but noticeably cautious formality. "You requested this meeting."
"Sit," I said, gesturing to the chair across from my desk. "I want to speak plainly, Lord Hasting, without the theater our council sessions typically require."
He settled into the offered seat, watching me with the wary attention of a man uncertain whether he'd been summoned for punishment or genuine conversation.
