In the late afternoon, a soft knock on the heavy oak door barely disturbed the silence of the office. Vyan glanced up from the stack of documents before him.
"Come in," he called lazily.
The door opened with a quiet creak, and Freya stepped inside with her usual grace. Clad in a simple navy blue gown, every inch the capable treasurer, she gave a respectful nod before her expression softened with concern.
"Has Clyde returned safely?" she asked, folding her hands in front of her.
"Yes. He is now with the princess." Vyan leaned back in his chair, a sly smile tugging at his lips. "Why are you asking though, Freya? Wouldn't you be happy if that idiot finally kicked the bucket? You two bicker like unsupervised children in a marketplace, after all."
Freya flushed. "That's not—!" She cleared her throat, adjusting her posture. "Ahem. Anyway. Why did you summon me, Vyan?"
Vyan chuckled under his breath, then gestured toward the chair across from him. "Have a seat."
