Now where would Her Majesty go? It was something he had to imagine. Which part of the town would her feet take her? What would capture her attention and who would she possibly approach for friendship?
He couldn't exactly imagine Rosalyn approaching the baker or the horseman with a beaming smile and cheerful expression. Nor would she shyly approach the bookshop or a trader.
She may have changed to some extent but that was downright opposite of her.
Instead he had to rely on something else, Sir Julius Ginellevé closed his eyes for a moment, he strolled into the town and allowed himself to walk through the main street.
Wherever she set her feet upon, surely there would always be something—
A tension hung in the air.
