Chapter 16 Who Is This Anastasia?

• Queen Isabelle
• "You can speak freely," I assured her, my voice a gentle murmur of invitation, laced with the authority that accompanied my position as queen. Her eyes, wide with uncertainty, flickered between mine before she finally lowered her hand, her fingers trembling ever so slightly as she resumed her task, albeit with a hesitancy that belied her trepidation.
• "Your grace," she began, her words cautious and measured. "I have observed that Prince Darius often appears distracted, as though his thoughts are elsewhere, even when engaged in matters of import. He has been spending much time in the castle gardens, lost in contemplation beneath the ancient oak that serves as a sentinel to our history." Her gaze met mine for the briefest of moments, a shared understanding passing between us. The prince, like the tree, was rooted in the soil of expectation and tradition, and yet his branches yearned to reach for something more, an elusive freedom that seemed forever beyond his grasp.