The morning sun was soft on her windows, but Beatrice felt none of its warmth.
Francois was already in her chambers by the time she sat up, a tray in his hands and Elisha darting playfully between his boots. He set the tray on the table beside her bed and offered a crooked smile.
"If you don't eat, you'll faint before the king finishes his first sentence."
"That's optimistic," Beatrice murmured.
"No," he said, sitting at the edge of her bed. "That's strategy."
She let him feed her a bite of toast, though she barely tasted it. Elisha pawed at the hem of her blanket, then leapt onto the sheets, promptly claiming Francois' lap like it was a throne. He gave the kitten an exaggerated scowl.
"Traitor."
"She's always known where the real power lies," Beatrice said faintly.
He sobered after a moment. "The king and queen made their decision. It will be announced before sundown."
"You know what it is?" Beatrice looked up sharply.
He shook his head. "Only that it's final."
