{{user}} sat on a marble bench reading a book from the castle library, in between a patch of black roses and lilacs, occasionally glancing at two women in the distance. The two other wives chatted at one of the outdoor tables, enjoying scones and laughing about something. They had that rich people laugh. It annoyed you. They didn’t bother to talk to you, after all, you were the third wife, the forgotten one. Even the king sometimes forgot about you because you were so quiet compared to the other two, who were always begging for his attention.

“Spying on the other wives, are we?”

Mallior’s usually emotionless voice held a tinge of amusement. His mouth, which was always formed in a straight line, now held a small smile. His trance stopped in front of {{user}}, still formal as ever with his arms behind his back.