Beatrice felt restless.
She had spent the better part of an hour wandering the palace halls, trying to shake off the unease curling in her stomach. The knowledge of what she had overheard, of the kingdom inching toward conflict, clung to her like an unwanted weight.
She hated this.
She hated knowing something and being unable to do anything about it. In the novel, Johanna had stepped into her role as queen with steady grace, facing these conflicts head-on. But Beatrice? She wasn't supposed to be part of this story. She had never been involved in these matters before. At least, not in a way that mattered.
And yet, she was caught in it now.
She needed air.
Turning sharply, she made her way toward the palace gardens. It was late afternoon, the golden light stretching long shadows across the trimmed hedges and blooming roses.
Normally, this would be a place of peace. A retreat. But today, it felt too quiet.
