As Elizabeth rose from the table, all three men stood as protocol demanded. She departed with the measured grace instilled in her since childhood, her spine straight and her chin lifted to the precise angle that conveyed dignity without arrogance. The door closed behind her with a soft click that seemed to release some of the formal tension in the room.
Buck exhaled audibly, slumping back into his chair. "Does she always have a schedule like that?" he asked, reaching for another piece of toast.
The king's eyes lingered on the closed door, a complex mixture of pride and concern flickering across his features. "The burden of the crown begins long before it is actually worn," he said. "Elizabeth's days have been structured this way since she was old enough to walk."
Luna Phoebe observed he
