Chapter 31
The morning after the Restoration was not heralded by trumpets, but by the persistent, rhythmic clinking of silver against bone china. In the Small Dining Room of Noordeinde—a space usually reserved for "informal" family gatherings, though it still boasted silk-paneled walls and a ceiling painted with frolicking cherubs—the air was thick with the smell of expensive coffee and even more expensive resentment. Elisa sat at the long mahogany table, her back straight. She had opted for a cream-colored knit sweater and dark trousers, a deliberate refusal to don the stiff silk dresses the palace staff had laid out in her dressing room. Beside her, Casper was a study in controlled defiance. He wore a crisp white shirt, sleeves rolled up to the elbows, revealing the faint scars on his forearms
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