The courtyard smelled faintly of jasmine and steeped tea, the late afternoon sun warming the pale stone beneath my shoes.
It should have been peaceful.
It looked peaceful.
Round iron tables had been arranged beneath the flowering arches, porcelain cups set neatly on lace cloth, pastries stacked like little towers of sugar and fruit. The fountain trickled softly nearby, birds hopping along the rim as if nothing in the world had ever gone wrong.
Anyone looking from a distance would think this was just another pleasant day in the royal castle.
Not a kingdom at war.
Not a country bleeding at its borders.
I lifted my teacup carefully, watching the steam curl upward.
Across from me, the Queen sat poised and radiant as always, posture perfect even in something as simple as tea. The King sat beside her, more relaxed, one arm resting along the back of her chair. My mother dabbed her lips politely with a napkin while discussing trade routes.
