"Your Majesty," Aurora bowed her head swiftly, not sparing him another glance before departing towards Bathsheba's chambers. Stephen stood frozen for a moment, watching her retreating figure.
What was that? he mused inwardly, his brow furrowing. With a quiet sigh, he turned and walked down the corridor, his footsteps echoing faintly in the stillness.
When he reached the entrance to the royal kitchen, Stephen paused, inside, was the bustling maids who paused in their work to curtsy and greet him before returning to their duties. His presence, commanding as ever, silenced the lively chatter.
"Your Majesty, what brings you hither?" Trent inquired, glancing up from the chopping block. His apron was stained with the evidence of a long morning's work, his hands busy with preparation.
