The heavy oak door of Queen Eleanor's private study closed with a soft thud, muffling the distant sounds of departing guests. Eleanor let out a long, weary sigh as she sank into the plush armchair behind her ornate desk. Across from her, Sir Gregory lowered himself into a seat, his face etched with concern.
"Well, that was quite the performance, wasn't it?" Eleanor said, rubbing her temples. The strain of maintaining a facade of cordiality throughout the lunch was evident in the tightness around her eyes.
Sir Gregory nodded, his silver hair catching the late afternoon light streaming through the tall windows. "Indeed it was, Your Majesty. Prince Vincent seemed to be thoroughly enjoying himself."
Eleanor's lips thinned into a grim line. "Yes, he did. The question is, will it be enough to stay his hand?"