The late afternoon sun cast a warm, golden glow over the royal garden as Damien sat across from his mother, Former Queen Lena, at a small table on the patio. The clink of porcelain teacups and the rustle of a gentle breeze were the only sounds as they sipped their tea in silence. A plate of untouched scones sat between them, but neither seemed ready to eat.
Lena’s keen eyes studied her son, her gaze lingering on his face. Damien, seemed more composed than he had been in recent months. There was a certain ease in the way he carried himself now, a subtle but unmistakable glow about him.
“You seem different,” Lena remarked, her voice breaking the silence.
Damien raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching into a faint smile. “Different? How so?”
Lena set her cup down with a soft clink and leane
