He grabbed the ledger so fast he nearly hit himself in the face with it. "Yes, Your Majesty!"
As she walked away, System 427 muttered, "That was almost kind."
"I haven't had breakfast yet," Heena replied. "Give it an hour."
The closer she came to the main dining hall, the thicker the caution became.
The palace usually woke in layers: kitchen noises first—clatter of pots, hiss of steam—then maid chatter as lines of servants carried breakfast to various wings. Nobles liked their morning bustle; it made them feel important.
Today, the volume was turned down to cautious.
In an intersecting corridor, she caught the tail end of a whispered conversation.
"…they said she demoted him in 'one' decree—"
"Shh! Do you want your family name next on a scroll?"
Heena's footsteps reached them a beat later.
The two stewards who had been hissing at each other spun around so fast their robes tangled, then dropped into synchronised bows.
"Your Majesty," they chorused.
