Queen Davina strode through the palace corridors, her footsteps echoing against the marble floor. She did not slow until she reached a pair of towering double doors, each fitted with a golden ox-head knocker. Drawing a steadying breath, she knocked before pushing the doors open and stepping inside.
The king lay against the headboard of his bed, his attention fixed on a parchment in his hands. His brows were drawn together in concentration, and he did not bother looking up when she entered.
"Whatever it is, Davina, can't it wait?" he asked.
She crossed the room and lowered herself onto the edge of the bed beside him.
"No, it cannot."
Only then did the king lift his gaze from the parchment. His expression softened slightly as he looked at her.
"What is the matter?"
"Your son refused to marry the Weatherbrow princess," Davina said.
The king remained silent for a moment, studying her with an unreadable expression.
