Sapphira's face hardened as the next suitor entered. He moved near and took her hand, kissing it elaborately, and sat as close to her as the adjacent chairs would allow. She scooted away, and Trace noticed her slipping her hand behind the folds of her skirt to wipe it off.
"Good Morning, Your Highness," Denholm's voice was sickly sweet.
Sapphira sighed. "Good Morning. Thank you for your attendance here today. On behalf of the entire royal family, we appreciate you and your family's loyalty to the kingdom."
The words were a script, a polite but distant way of addressing the man, but he didn't catch on.
