Xerxes sat in his study, the glow of the afternoon sun casting sharp shadows across the room. Papers lay strewn across his desk, but his attention was elsewhere, his jaw clenched as he stared at nothing in particular.
Andrew stood before him, arms crossed. "They are pressing for an investigation," he said.
Xerxes let out a bitter laugh, low and humorless. "And what do they expect? For me to go running to her bedside?"
"She is ill, and they claim it is poison, yes, again," Andrew replied carefully. "If you do not act, the court will only turn more eyes towards the Queen's staff. Not her but indirectly her."
Xerxes rubbed his temple. "They want a spectacle. They wish for me to grovel at her feet after everything she has done."
Xerxes wasn't particularly angry at the court suspecting the
