[Imperial Palace – East Garden / Thirty Minutes and Seven Pastries Later]
Lucien had just devoured his second lemon tart. Seraphina was slowly dismantling a biscuit like it had personally insulted her lineage.
And Empress Elise?
She was sipping her tea with the calm grace of a woman who knew her schemes were genius and her hair immaculate.
Birds chirped.
Butterflies fluttered.
The silverware sparkled ominously.
And the air—the air thickened with the weight of suspense. It was the kind of atmosphere that warned, Something scandalous this way comes.
And then—Footsteps.
Soft.
Swift.
Purposeful.
A young knight stepped into the garden, armor gleaming like a diplomatic mirror ball, eyes wide with the kind of nervousness only royalty, pregnancy, and dangerous gossip could inspire.
He bowed low, nearly dropping his scroll. "G-Greetings, Empress."