The study was quiet except for the steady sound of Derek’s typing. He had been at his MacBook since mid-morning, working through a backlog of correspondence that had built up during the war council.

A soft knock at the door broke his concentration.

"Come in," he said, without looking up.

The door opened, and the scent reached him a half second before he registered the figure in his peripheral vision. Her scent was mixed with a floral and expensive perfume, the same thing she had worn for years. He looked up.

Ruby stood in the doorway in a midnight-blue trouser suit, her red hair swept into a style that had clearly taken time and effort. She was smiling, broad and warm, as though the past two weeks had been a pleasant holiday rather than a suspension from duty.

"Your Grace," she said.

"Ruby." He leaned back slightly in his chair. "How are you?"

She moved to the chair across from his desk and sat down, crossed her legs and looked around the office as if she were inspecting a crime scene.

"How am I?" she repeated, with a dramatic sigh. "I have never been confined in one place for that long in my entire life. I think I was starting to talk to the walls." She gave him a playful, mock-pout. "You really know how to make a girl feel welcome in her own home."

A small smile played at the corner of Derek’s mouth.

"At least you rested well enough to get your head back on track," he teased. "I assume you won’t be forgetting your job description anytime soon."

Ruby blinked. The smile stayed on her face, but something clicked in her head. She had expected cold. She had expected the careful, distant professionalism he usually wore after disciplining someone. She had not expected him to tease her.

She filed it away quietly and said nothing.

Derek resumed typing. "For what it’s worth, I missed your efficiency. Fiona is thorough, but she is not you. The border pack ledger situation alone cost me two extra hours I did not have."

Pride moved through Ruby’s chest like warm light immediately. This was what she had built.

Years of making herself indispensable, of knowing things before he asked, of being the person the palace could not properly function without. That had not changed.

Whatever the werewolf runt had done in the past weeks, she could not replicate this.

"I’m sure you barely noticed I was gone," Ruby said lightly, smoothing her cloth over her knee. "You’ve been so very occupied with your wife."

Derek’s hands stilled on the keyboard. The mention of Kira brought a sudden, vivid image of her shrieking with laughter as he carried her through the courtyard.

It lasted only a second. Then he resumed typing, his expression settling back into its usual composure. He cleared his throat. "I have to take care of my wife. At least."

Ruby’s smile brightened to something that did not reach her eyes. "Of course you do."

She tilted her head, her voice taking on the warm, conversational tone of an old friend rather than a subordinate.

"I know you as many things, Derek, but a convincing actor has never been one of them. You don’t have to keep the mask on with me."

Derek didn’t look up from the screen. "What are you talking about?"

"The gossip," Ruby said. "When I went to check in on the staff quarters, the gossip was extraordinary. The King doting on his werewolf queen. Carrying her across the courtyards. Eating food she cooked herself."

She paused, as though the words were purely observational. "You really have committed to this, haven’t you?"

Derek said nothing. His face had returned to its default, giving her absolutely nothing to work with.

Ruby pressed on, keeping her tone easy and light, almost amused. "I only hope it’s all worth it in the few months remaining before the coronation. That she doesn’t betray us all before you get your crown." She smiled, as though she were sharing a private joke between old friends.

The typing stopped.

Derek looked at her then. Not the distracted, peripheral look of a man half focused on a screen. It was a full, direct look.

"Stop listening to cheap gossip," he said.

Ruby lifted her hands in a small gesture of surrender. "I’m only concerned about you. As your friend. As someone who has been here since before any of this."

She let that settle for a moment, then softened her voice deliberately. "You remember when your father was killed, and the whole court was scrambling to figure out who would take your side? I was fifteen years old, and I was already in your corner. I’ve always been in your corner, Derek. Everything I say comes from that place."

Derek held her gaze for a moment longer, then looked back at his screen.

Ruby straightened and reached into the slim folder she had brought with her, sliding a printed budget across the desk towards him.

"I want to host a luncheon. This Friday. For the ladies of the court, mated and unmated. I’ve already sent out invitations, and I need the funds cleared before Wednesday to get the catering organised properly."

Derek glanced at the paper for only a second before sliding it back. "You’ll have to move it to the following week."

Ruby’s smile dropped. "What? Why? Friday is the perfect day. Preparations are already ongoing."

Derek leaned back in his chair and looked at her. "The Queen’s charity event is on Friday."

Ruby stared at him. "I beg your pardon?"

"Her fundraiser. It’s been in the calendar for weeks. You’ll need to move yours."

The silence that followed was very brief and very full.

"I have already sent invitations," Ruby said, her voice measured with visible effort. "To everyone. I cannot simply—"

"So has she," Derek said simply.

Ruby felt as if he had slapped her. She sat back, her face turning a pale shade of white. She blinked, one time and again and then her eyes began to glisten with tears.

It wasn’t because she was sad; it was a weapon she had used since they were children. She knew exactly how to make Derek feel like he was being a monster.

"Derek, please. I’ve just come out of two weeks of confinement. I’ve been isolated and bored, and I barely feel like myself. This luncheon is the one thing I have been looking forward to."

Her voice caught, just slightly. "You’re married now, and I understand that, truly I do. But you’ve been so occupied with her that I have barely seen you."

Her voice trembled as a single tear escaped and rolling down her cheek.

"I’ve been by your side for years. I’ve neglected my own life to help you build yours, and ever since you got married, you’ve treated me like an intruder. Please, Derek. Don’t humiliate me by making me recall my invitations. You know I host something by this time every year. I’m bored, I’m lonely, and I just need to feel like I’m still part of this palace."