Little by little, Dydra picked at the food before her, her movements slow, almost absent. Though she lifted each bite to her lips, her mind was far from the table—scattered, restless, circling thoughts she could not quite silence.
The Old Queen's voice echoed faintly in her head.
For a brief moment, she parted her lips, intending to speak—but the words faltered before they could form. She shook the thought away, lowering her gaze back to her plate.
"You are free to speak whatever is on your mind, little fox."
Her eyes flickered up.
Of course… nothing ever escaped him.
"I… ran into the Old Queen," Dydra began carefully. "She knows I attended the ball."
She watched him closely as she spoke, searching for any change—any sign of displeasure—but Leonard's movements remained steady, his attention seemingly fixed on his meal.
A quiet unease settled in her chest.
"My lord… I apologize," she added softly.
"Why?"
The single word caught her off guard.
