Beatrice barely had time to process her frustration before she heard the door click shut behind her.
She turned.
Francois stood there, his posture relaxed but his expression unreadable. He had arrived quietly, slipping into the room like a shadow.
Beatrice exhaled sharply. Here we go again!
"Your Highness," she greeted, her voice neutral.
Francois took a slow step forward, his gaze sweeping across the room, from the dim candlelight to the still-ruffled papers on her desk.
"You're restless," he observed, his eyes watching her like a falcon.
Beatrice scoffed, crossing her arms. "You always assume so much."
"I assume what I can see," he replied simply. "And right now, I see someone who looks ready to break something."
Beatrice clicked her tongue. "Tempting, but no."
Francois didn't react to her deflection. Instead, he took another step closer, his eyes sharp as they studied her.
"The court is talking."
Beatrice forced a smile. It was too obvious and sarcastic.
