A single sentence from Francois had rewritten the next chapter of Beatrice's life, and the court hadn't stopped turning pages since.
Expectedly, her things are being moved.
"By order of the queen," Lily said, barely hiding her astonishment as she folded the last of Beatrice's gowns into the trunk. "You're being relocated to the East Wing."
Beatrice, still seated on the edge of her bed, raised a brow.
"The East Wing?"
"Yes. Three doors down from the prince."
"Oh."
The room fell into soft motion again. Servants carrying parcels and shoes, one steward overseeing the cataloging of her jewelry. Everything Beatrice owned now had weight. Every step she took had consequence.
Her new chambers were twice the size of the old ones. Gold-veined marble ran along the floor. The windows opened out onto the western gardens, and the bed was large enough to swallow her whole. Fresh roses had been set on every table. Someone had embroidered her initials into the pillowcases.
