CHAPTER 93: THE COURTYARD GATHERING

The Courtyard Gathering

The courtyard was still shimmering in the sunlight when Ben and Anna stepped through the marble archway. The moment they entered, the air itself seemed to soften around them—warm light spilling across their faces, the scent of fresh blooms wrapping them in the quiet pulse of spring.

The maids were still at work, adjusting ribbons and flower arrangements, but their movements slowed as the two figures appeared. It was impossible not to notice them. Ben, composed yet distant, carried the weight of quiet exhaustion in his shoulders; Anna, poised and calm, moved with the grace of someone who’d long learned how to balance elegance with empathy.

Ben’s gaze wandered across the courtyard, tracing every detail—the cascading ribbons, the polished silver, the soft glimmer of the fountain’s mist. "They’ve done well," he murmured under his breath. His tone wasn’t loud, but the weariness in it carried through the quiet space. "It looks... beautiful."

Anna smiled faintly beside him, her eyes soft as she took in the scene. "Lovely," she whispered, almost to herself. "Truly lovely. It feels... alive again."

Ben gave a slow exhale, part sigh, part laugh. "After this morning’s news, I didn’t think the palace could feel alive at all."

Her head turned sharply toward him, a flicker of reproach and tenderness crossing her expression. "Ben."

He met her gaze—blue to violet—and found himself caught there for a heartbeat. She didn’t need to say more. He could see it in her eyes: the silent plea to stop letting grief linger in his voice. He forced a thin smile.

"Alright," he said, lifting his hands slightly in surrender. "If I carry this mood any longer, it’s not me you’ll scold—it’s yourself for revealing the news first."

Anna blinked at him, then let out a small, helpless laugh. "Oh, you—don’t twist my words back at me."

"I’m only returning what’s given."

"Then return it with a little warmth."

Her retort came light, teasing, but the softness that followed said everything her words didn’t. For a brief moment, Ben’s smile turned genuine—a quiet, tired warmth beneath all the tension of the morning.

As the two walked further in, the sound of water trickling from the fountain filled the pause between their words. Sunlight rippled through the moving spray, scattering tiny specks of gold across the marble. The scent of roses brushed past, mixed with traces of wine and freshly baked bread from the kitchens beyond the arch.

The maids noticed them fully now. One by one, their chatter and motion came to a graceful halt. Trays were set down carefully; bows were made in perfect rhythm. The entire courtyard seemed to draw breath and bend in respect.

"Lord Ben. Lady Anna," the head maid greeted softly, bowing low. "Welcome. Preparations are nearly complete."

Anna nodded, smiling kindly at her. "You’ve all done wonderful work. It’s breathtaking."

The maids exchanged proud glances, murmuring their gratitude before hurrying back to their tasks.

Ben turned slightly toward Anna, his expression thoughtful. "They stop every time we enter a room," he said quietly. "You’d think they’d be used to us by now."

Anna shrugged lightly. "Respect never grows old."

He chuckled under his breath. "Nor does your ability to scold me with a smile."

"Someone has to keep you from vanishing into your thoughts."

"Then you’re doing far too well."

She shook her head, though her smile betrayed amusement. "You’re impossible."

Before Ben could reply, a young, cheerful voice carried across the courtyard—bright and clear against the backdrop of water and sunlight.

"Father! Mother!"

Both turned toward the sound, their expressions softening instantly. Ania came running between the flowerbeds, her hair swaying behind her, her eyes glowing with energy that seemed to banish the remnants of gloom from the air. She slowed as she neared, straightening her dress before offering a delicate smile.

"You both look too serious," she said, folding her hands behind her back with playful concern. "It’s supposed to be a lovely day."

Anna knelt slightly, brushing a strand of hair behind her daughter’s ear. "And you look far too radiant for words, dear."

Ben crossed his arms, though the faint curve of his lips betrayed his pride. "You’ve been practicing your entrance again, haven’t you?"

Ania giggled. "Maybe a little."

"Just a little?" Anna teased.

"Maybe... a lot."

Her laughter was contagious, drawing even Ben into a small chuckle. For a moment, the three of them simply stood together, framed by sunlight and the quiet hum of the courtyard. The gentle peace of it felt fragile but real—like glass catching the morning light.

Then Anna looked around, noticing the long table by the fountain, already dressed for the royal meal. "It seems everything is ready. But where..."—her eyes flicked around—"...is our dear son? I thought he’d be here by now."

"Father," Ania said, tilting her head, "didn’t you say he’d finished his meeting?"

"I did." Ben’s brow furrowed, though not with worry—just mild impatience softened by affection. "He must be taking his time."

"Or," Anna said, smirking faintly, "he’s making an entrance."

As if summoned by her words, the sound of measured footsteps echoed from the far archway. The gentle chatter of the maids quieted once more, the air shifting—something about that sound commanded attention before the man himself even appeared.

Victor walked in from the corridor beyond, calm, composed, the faintest smile tugging at his lips. The light caught him just as he stepped into view, tracing the sharp lines of his face and the confident ease in his movements. His long dark hair brushed his shoulders, glinting faintly like ink kissed by sunlight. His clothes—tailored with quiet precision—spoke of nobility, but the way he carried himself was what truly drew every gaze.

Ania’s face lit up. "Brother!"

Ben turned, his faint wariness melting into quiet pride. "Finally," he said.

Anna’s smile deepened. "Always the last to arrive, but somehow never late."

Victor’s eyes—deep, unreadable, carrying both warmth and authority—moved between them as he approached. "You called for me, Father?"

"No," Ben replied with a dry edge of humor, "but I was about to."

Ania skipped forward, tugging lightly at Victor’s sleeve. "You look handsome today."

He glanced down at her, his smile softening for a heartbeat. "You say that as if it’s unusual."

She pouted, "You’re supposed to thank me, not tease me."

Victor chuckled quietly. "Then thank you, little one."