Meanwhile in the castle,
Miss Penfield, the children's governess, approached the grand doors of the queen's chambers with two knights flanking her.
She held her head high, her stern demeanor evident in every step.
When they reached the guards stationed outside, one of the knights stepped forward to announce her arrival.
"Please inform Her Majesty that the children's governess has come to fetch them for their lessons," the knight said, his voice firm yet respectful.
The guards exchanged glances before one of them disappeared inside, returning moments later with a nod. "Her Majesty is aware. The children will be sent out shortly."
Inside, the young prince and princess were doing their best to delay the inevitable.
They were nestled comfortably in their grandmother's chambers, the aged queen entertaining their antics with a knowing smile.
It wasn't the first time they had sought refuge here, avoiding their lessons in favor of storytelling and the warmth of her company.
"Do we have to go?" the young princess whined, clutching her grandmother's hand.
The qeens Sister Diana chuckled softly, brushing a strand of hair from the girl's face. "You know your grandmother wants what's best for you. And Miss Penfield is a fine governess. She'll make sure you learn all you need to rule wisely one day."
"But lessons are boring," the prince muttered, crossing his arms with a pout.
The queen, seated across the room, sighed as she watched the scene unfold. Though she sympathized with their reluctance, she knew the importance of their education.
Rising from her seat, she approached the children, her regal presence commanding their attention.
"My dears," she said gently but firmly, "I understand your feelings, but you must remember your duties. Governing a kingdom is no small task, and knowledge is your greatest tool. Miss Penfield is here to guide you in becoming the rulers you are destined to be."
Her words, though kind, left no room for argument. The children exchanged reluctant glances but knew better than to protest further.
When the door opened, Miss Penfield stood waiting, her expression a blend of patience and authority. "Your Highnesses," she said with a small bow, her voice calm but resolute. "It's time."
The queen sister gave the children an encouraging nod. "Go on now. She'll be here when you've finished."
With heavy sighs and dragging feet, the young prince and princess stepped forward, their governess guiding them away.
As they exited the chamber, Miss Penfield glanced at the queen and offered a subtle nod of gratitude.
The queen watched them go, a faint smile on her lips. She knew Miss Penfield was exactly what her grandchildren needed—a firm yet caring hand to prepare them for the future.
Still, her heart ached slightly at the sight of their somber faces.
"Don't worry," the queen sister said softly, noticing her daughter's expression. "They'll thank you for it someday."
The queen nodded, though a wistful look lingered in her eyes as she returned to her seat, trusting that her children were in capable hands.
She had done this with her kids but it pains differently with her grandchildren.
!
The sunlight filtered softly into the grand study, casting a warm glow over a gathering of the kingdom's young nobility.
Though ostensibly here for lessons, the room buzzed with energy, more like a lively court than a place of learning.
Miss Penfield, the children's governess, stood at the front, tapping her fingers rhythmically on a thick, leather-bound history book in a futile attempt to summon some order.
Near the front, Simon Velthorne, the crown prince's eldest son, was already challenging her authority, his arms crossed defiantly.
At only eleven, he was stocky and tall for his age, his golden blonde hair tousled, and his light blue eyes filled with a gleam of mischief. "Miss Penfield, I already know all about the Great Battle of the Northern Plains," he proclaimed loudly, puffing out his chest. "I could teach it better than you!"
Philipa Velthorne, Spencer's first daughter and the oldest of the younger children, gave Simon a stern look.
Slim and a little taller than her peers, she sat with her hands neatly folded and her hazel eyes focused on the lesson. "Simon, we're here to listen to Miss Penfield, not to argue. Acting like you know everything only proves you don't."
Simon huffed, but Philipa's words held weight. She had a way of commanding respect, even from Simon, who was not known for conceding to anyone.
Her little sister, Hazel Velthorne, was far less serious. She leaned over from her desk, her golden blonde curls wild and untamed, giggling and reaching to tug at Simon's sleeve.
"Bet you don't even know where the Northern Plains are, Simon!" Hazel teased, her blue eyes sparkling with mischief. She pulled back just in time as Simon swatted at her hand, smirking as if she'd won the battle.
"Of course, I do," Simon shot back, cheeks flushed. "They're… well… north, obviously."
Meanwhile, John Velthorne, Jaron's only son, was causing his own small disturbance from the back of the room.
He went on his knees beneath the table and crawled to tug at the hem of his cousin Madison's dress. With soft golden curls and chubby cheeks, he looked sweet—until he opened his mouth.
Madison ignored him long enough to make him bored and he left her alone to sit back n his place, Miss Penfield was too busy trying to teach to have noticed what just happened.
"Stupid book!" John mumbled loudly, smacking his small hand on a page before toddling off, seemingly uninterested in anything except the noise he could make.
Madison Velthorne, Jace's eldest daughter, was equally uninterested in the lesson, her sharp green eyes narrowed as she watched the scene with a hint of disdain.
Slim and tall for her age, she had her arms crossed, her light brown hair falling over one shoulder as she muttered to herself. "Honestly, could this day be any more of a bore? I don't know why we're even sitting through this nonsense."