The days passed slowly. Each tea time felt eternal and tedious. There were one or two men who seemed decent, but most of them seemed nearly as hungry for money and power as Denholm. Trace had to let his mind wander away so that he didn't noticeably cringe at times.
The princess could feel it, too. She smiled politely and gave the occasional barbed comment, which the king always disapproved of. Sometimes he made her stay afterwards to rebuke impolite behavior that Sapphira displayed.
She always listened attentively, nodded submissively, and then rolled her eyes the moment she turned away.
The princess was still a work in progress. A lifetime of being spoiled didn't just disappear overnight.
Nights were where Trace thrived. He had to spend a cursory amount of time planting the dreams Oakdown had demanded, because he knew Sanders was reporting to the man.
