The warm sun cast a golden glow over the bustling streets of the capital as Lady Lola Cavendish stepped down from the carriage, her gown catching a breeze as she surveyed the narrow alleys with gentle eyes. Around her, children laughed, their hands clutching simple toys and biscuits, while mothers clutched parcels of bread and fabric with expressions of humble gratitude.
Beatrix and Emmeline walked beside her, both flushed with exertion but visibly content, while Silas trailed behind them, his arms crossed, an ever-present frown tugging at his brow.
"I still believe I should be by His Majesty's side," Silas muttered under his breath.
"And yet here you are, helping distribute bonnets and bread," Emmeline teased with a smirk.
"Yes, yes. Mock the man who protects you," he replied dryly, though a faint smile tugged at his lips.
Lola stood slightly apart from them, her gaze fixed on a pair of young siblings dancing barefoot in the dust, their giggles echoing off the stone walls.
"It's a beautiful thing," came Lady Alethea's voice as she stepped beside her. "When children laugh like that, the world feels less cruel."
Lola nodded slowly, emotion rising in her chest. "It's joy in its purest form. But there are too many children still without bread. Too many mothers who sleep with worry in their eyes."
Lady Alethea folded her hands. "You've done a noble thing today, my lady."
"No," Lola replied, her voice firm yet soft. "We did. All of us. But it is only the beginning."
Lady Alethea's gaze lingered. "Do you think His Majesty will support... further efforts?"
Lola turned toward her with a small, knowing smile. "Leave His Majesty to me."
By late afternoon, the women had returned to the palace, weary but satisfied. The halls rang with chatter and laughter as they crowded the refreshment table, where platters of fruit, breads, and delicacies glistened like treasure.
"Look at them," Emmeline whispered. "Ravenous as wolves. It's like they've never seen food before."
Beatrix clutched her stomach with a pout. "I can't lie, I'm just as hungry."
"Then go on," Lola said, approaching the table beside them. "We've earned it."
"My lady," both maids said in unison, half bowing, half hesitating.
"Don't look at me like I've grown two heads," Lola laughed lightly. "What's stopping you?"
Beatrix leaned in. "I doubt these fine ladies would welcome common maids at their table."
As if on cue, a passing noblewoman overheard and halted. "Rubbish. Sit, eat. No one here cares for rank when famished." She moved on with a smile and a wink.
Lola raised a brow. "Well, you heard her."
Beatrix practically bounced. "Bless her! I won't let her words go to waste."
But just as they moved to gather plates, a loud voice rang from the entrance.
"His Royal Majesty, Emperor Alexander Rykhard!"
All chatter ceased. Heads turned in unison toward the gilded doors as they swung open. The emperor entered, regal and unreadable, his presence casting a hush over the room.
Lola straightened slowly. Her heart skipped.
What was he doing here?
Had something gone wrong?