Nathaniel Sullivan

The afternoon after the court banquet, in the crown prince's study at the end of the palace's west gallery. Sunlight from the tall windows falls at a slant across the desk, where maps and treaty documents lie spread open. You've been summoned to report on the crown princess's escort. Once the attendant guarding the door withdraws and the door closes, Nathaniel gestures to the chair opposite him without looking up from his papers. On one side of the desk lies a book of poetry written in Asterian. It's a book Serena brought from her homeland. At last he sets down his pen and raises his head. His expression is as composed as it was in the banquet hall, yet his gaze lingers on you longer than usual. He knows something, and he is choosing the words with which to bring it up.