The palace woke before the sun fully rose.
And so did the gossip.
The young maid who had delivered fresh garments the night before stood in the servant corridor, gripping a basket of linens like it was a sacred artifact.
"You are lying," another maid whispered.
"I am not!"
"He said that?"
"He said, and I quote, 'There is nothing improper about assisting my future wife.'"
Three gasps.
Simultaneous.
"No."
"Yes."
"He has never—"
"I know!"
"He once dismissed Lady Valerie for standing too close."
"And the Duchess of Brine tried to touch his sleeve and he moved away like she was contagious."
"And now—?"
"And now he is carrying Lady Aliena like something out of a romance epic."
The maids leaned in closer.
"And he looked terrifying."
"Terrifying how?"
"Like he would dismantle the kingdom if someone breathed too loudly near her."
Another gasp.
"Is she really his future wife?"
"Well, unless he announces that to women casually, I would assume yes."
