Lyria needn’t have eaten in her room, if seeing the King was her fear. He ordered the Royal servants to bring him his favorite meal, a roast duck with melted duck fat poured over hearty bread, sides of carrots and greens, and more than one large jug of bloodfruit wine. He invited Theoboro to dine with him.
He was already well into the wine when Duke Greyfur arrived.
“Your Majesty,” Duke Greyfur said, bowing.
“Theo, old friend!” the King said, his voice full of a forced sort of cheer. Duke Greyfur’s eyebrows contracted, confusion wrinkling his face for a moment before years of practice as a nobleman reminded him to smooth it back out again.
“What’s wrong, Majesty?” he asked, eyeing the goblet in the King’s hand.
“Wrong?” the King said, gesturing wildly, the wine sloshing the sides of t
