Chapter thirty seven

Beside me, King Richard, a man whose reputation for sternness preceded him, strolled with an air of surprising grace. Whispers of his icy demeanor had always swirled around the Brooks, even my father once mentioning it in hushed tones. Yet, the man walking with me exuded a gentle warmth that defied those rumors.

"Annie, dear," he began, his voice surprisingly soft, "I know settling into the palace must be a difficult adjustment, with all its unfamiliar routines."

I forced a smile. "It's...different," I managed, "but not unbearable." My voice, however, lacked its usual confidence. "I'm just trying to find my place here," I added, turning away slightly and instantly regretting my outward sigh.

His keen eyes caught the movement. "Is Damian treating you well?" he inquired.

"Yes," I stammered, "yes, he is." The word felt heavy on my tongue.