For a moment, I gaze at him uncomprehendingly, and then it hits me. “What kind of question is that?”
He clears his throat. “Given your disposition toward the queen, I want to know whether you envision having a child with her this year or not.”
“That was the plan, wasn’t it?”
I turn my attention back toward the woman in the garden. Has she lost her mind? If she wants to have a hole dug, why isn’t she asking one of the gardeners? Why the hell is she doing this herself?
“Look, whatever is out there is far less interesting than what I’m trying to say to you,” my friend snaps at me. He walks around the desk to see what I’m looking at, and before I can stop him, he manages to catch a glimpse.
“Is that Queen Vivian?” he mumbles, shocked.
I shove him away. “Mind your own business.”
“I’m try
