Conversation carried on easily after that.
Maribel was describing a disaster involving a dressmaker and three contradictory measurements. Liora corrected timelines with quiet precision. Mum listened with amused patience. The Queen watched all of us like she was memorising the moment.
I was halfway through a small cake when a bright voice cut through the calm.
"A tea party. Can I join."
The air shifted.
Nero sighed immediately.
[Ah. Narrative disturbance detected.]
I did not look up.
I knew who it was.
I set my teacup down carefully. Porcelain touched the table without a sound.
"Lady Ashgrove," I said, voice even, "please have some manners."
Silence fell across the table.
"How many times must I remind you," I continued, still not looking at her, "that you are to greet us first. Every person seated here outranks you. You will greet us before initiating conversation."
When I finally lifted my gaze, Ophelia looked like she might cry.
