“Good evening, Amethyst.” Through the semi-darkness she could see his tousled hair, as if he'd been to bed and risen again. Flames danced in the torches on the walls, creating a ghostly shadow around his regal figure.
“Sire.” She bobbed a curtsey. “I trust you found the music enlightening tonight.”
“As always,” came out flat.
“I heard the queen was ill?” She wanted to remind him that he still had a wife, but her genuine concern for the queen overshadowed her need to make conversation.
“She's…not feeling quite right, she's been confined to her chambers.” His tone sounded genuine enough despite what she'd heard of his waning interest in his wife.
“Is it serious? Mayhap I can go to her and sing some songs to cheer her up,” she offered.
He waved that idea away. “Nay, she sometimes feels
