[Elliot POV]
I was halfway through organizing the second stack of documents when the knock came.
It was measured, not hesitant, but not forceful enough to suggest urgency. Most people who came to this room understood the difference. They knew when to interrupt and when to wait.
"Enter," the duke said.
The door opened, and a servant stepped in first, carrying a tray with careful balance. The porcelain set rested neatly on its surface, steam rising in thin curls that carried a faint, unfamiliar scent into the room. It was lighter than what was usually prepared here, less sharp, less direct.
Liora followed.
Her pace was even, her posture composed, and her gaze steady as she stepped inside. She did not pause to take in the room, nor did she hesitate at the threshold. There was no uncertainty in the way she carried herself, and that alone set her apart from the others who had entered this space before her.
"Your Grace," she said.
