Eckhart closed her eyes, exhaled slowly. “Tell me she just wants to know how he’s doing.”

“She says the expenses involved in this ongoing endeavor have exceeded what is reasonable; this is the last promenade she will allow.”

As much as she’d expected an ultimatum, the official pronouncement of it still turned Eckhart’s blood cold. She returned her attention to Fier, who had been swept away from the dark-haired beauty and now stood just beyond the reach of a slender woman with auburn, clipped hair. This was their last chance.

“He refuses to hold court, you know.” This was hardly the place or time to admit as much, but Sir Eckhart spoke at a volume low enough to discourage any eavesdroppers from attending. “He sits for it, but he won’t address even the simpler problems anymore.”

Beside her, the attendant shifted his balance from one foot to the other. “With all due respect, sir, your prince is a brat.”

“He will be a good king.” Eckhart knew the claim rang hollow, the words empty after too many fruitless repetitions, but the alternative was unthinkable. “He just needs to grow into it.”

Though he laced his hands politely behind his back and kept his shoulders squared, the attendant still managed to shrug. His more nuanced disagreement, perhaps, would be more forthcoming in a less-public venue.

Eckhart lifted her gaze from Fier, who still hesitated to take his partner’s proffered hand, and scanned the room at large. Since sunset, the scene had changed little, but even after several hours, the parade of young and beautiful courtiers remained as dazzling and beautiful as a garden in full bloom. Outside, early-winter rain may have been lashing the windows all day, but here, safe indoors, was the flush of spring.

Dresses and tailcoats in vivid colors, forever the territory of the rich, caught the light: green and blue enough to rival the summer sea, red and orange swirling through like windblown sparks, and yellow sun-bright in the gaps between. The charcoal grey of the servants’ formal uniforms were scattered around the border of the room, half of them invisible in the shadows of the corners.

Above everything hung the chandelier, heavy with crystal and candles, the whole of it glowing with spokes of gilded fire, a great bloom of light radiating a halo of gold.

A great expense. She could almost hear the words in Her Majesty’s voice. That smooth, presumptuous tone ruffled the knight still, even after three years of its absence; such was a voice not accustomed to any listener’s disregard. No one argued with the queen.

A great expense, when the price was a handful of copper pennies compared to the wealth lavished upon Fier’s six older siblings. A great expense – when Her Majesty already pretended this backcountry manor was in any way equal to the cost of her other children’s palace holdings.