The queen's summons arrived in the form of a cream-colored scroll, delivered by the same trembling pageboy who'd fetched Beatrice from the stables.
Her presence was requested in the eastern receiving wing. No reason given, no hint of urgency. But the signature, elegant, looping, and unmistakably Queen Cecile's, left little room for interpretation.
When Beatrice arrived, she was not alone.
Johanna was already seated by the open windows, her gown a delicate lilac trimmed with ivory ribbon. She offered a soft smile as Beatrice entered, warm as always.
Princess Lila, predictably, stood instead of sitting. She was dressed in a loosely tied court robe, half an inch of boot leather peeking beneath her hem, her arms folded like a soldier summoned to a duel.
"Lady Beatrice," Johanna greeted. "We were beginning to think you might not come."
Beatrice dipped her head, eyes sweeping the room.
"You know I would never defy a summons."
