Christopher had envisioned this moment as calm.
Quiet, even. A rare pocket of stillness before the wedding swallowed the palace whole. Just him, Andrew, and Mia with no strategy, no politics, and no existential threats disguised as gift animals. Something almost normal.
He should have known better.
Mia was seated on the couch, legs tucked beneath her, expression politely bewildered in the way of someone who had somehow become important without ever applying for the position. Andrew lounged nearby with the easy confidence of an older brother who had survived court life by refusing to take any of it seriously and the unhealthy habit of smoking. Christopher stood by the window, watching the late afternoon light spill across the room and thinking, briefly, that this might actually work.
Then Heather appeared.
She simply was hovering at Mia's shoulder like a very enthusiastic shadow, eyes bright, posture attentive, clearly having decided that Mia was now part of her personal orbit.
