"Today was the first time in a long while I heard a piece from that piano." The king's voice betrayed the stillness.
As his movement disrupted the serene atmosphere, Gwen's fingers instinctively grasped the fabric of her dress, a nervous habit betraying her unease. "I apologize again, Your Majesty, for using our pianoforte without your permission." She murmured.
Resting his hands behind his head, the king regarded Gwen with a curious expression. "And again, I say your piece was beautiful." He smiled. "Who is the composer?"
A soft smile graced Gwen's lips as a reply to the king's and as she fondly recalled the origins of the piece. "My mother." There was warmth in her voice. The king's eyebrows quirked in question, prompting Gwen to stifle a laugh. "Our mother has an affinity for all her children," she explained, her eyes alight with affection, "and she knows our preferences and predilections."
"Does she now?" He mused.
