Francois stepped inside, quiet as ever, while Beatrice set the kitten down gently onto the carpet. Elisha immediately took off, skittering across the room in a tangle of paws and tail, attacking the corner of a rug as if it had personally offended her.
Beatrice hid a small smile behind her hand and gestured for Francois to sit by the hearth.
"Tea?" she offered, almost shyly.
"I won't stay long," he said, but he sat anyway, stretching his legs out toward the fire. His tunic was rumpled, his hair slightly tousled, and for once he didn't look like a prince at all. Just a man at the end of a long day.
She poured two cups anyway, settling into the opposite chair.
"How was court?" she asked lightly.
"Less interesting," he replied. "Though the queen had a few things to say about dramatic stairwell rescues."
Beatrice snorted softly into her tea. "Of course she did."
Francois leaned forward, elbows on his knees.
