The Queen's decision, once made, moved quickly. Within a fortnight, another royal messenger arrived at the Ashkam estate, this time carrying an invitation far more specific than the first: the Duke alone was summoned to a private audience with Queen Adelaide to discuss what the letter vaguely described as "matters concerning the responsibilities of noble households."
Alaric read the letter with a mixture of pride and unease, uncertain whether this summons represented an opportunity or a warning, though he suspected deep down that it had something to do with the uncomfortable question the Queen had asked at dinner weeks earlier. He told Eleanor of the summons that evening, watching her reaction carefully, though she showed only calm curiosity rather than the anxiety he had half expected.
"I am certain you will represent the family well," she said simply, returning to the letter she had been writing to her sister.
Alaric studied her for a long moment, struck once again by her steady composure—a quality he had spent months dismissing as dullness, though he found himself now questioning that judgment more than he cared to admit.
He departed for the capital alone three days later, his mind occupied the entire journey with questions he could not fully articulate, even to himself. Why had the Queen singled out his wife's character at dinner? Why had she now summoned him alone, rather than both of them together as before? And why, despite months of confident dismissal, did the memory of Edmund's quiet words in the stable continue to trouble him more with each passing mile toward the palace?
By the time his carriage rolled through the palace gates, Alaric had convinced himself that the meeting likely concerned some minor matter of estate taxation or a request for support in an upcoming political matter—nothing more. He straightened his coat as he stepped down from the carriage, composing his features into the confident expression he always wore in public, unaware that the coming conversation would strip away every layer of that confidence far more thoroughly than he could have imagined.
He was led through the palace corridors by a quiet attendant, past the grand hall where the dinner had taken place weeks earlier, into a smaller, more private study lined with tall bookshelves and warmed by a low fire. Queen Adelaide sat behind a wide desk, reviewing a stack of papers, and did not look up immediately when Alaric entered. He bowed formally, waiting for permission to speak, and when she finally raised her eyes to meet his, he found none of the polite warmth she had shown at dinner. Her expression was measured, careful, and unmistakably serious.
"Duke Ashkam," she said, gesturing toward a chair across from her desk. "Please sit."
He did so, arranging his features into calm confidence despite the growing unease in his chest. The Queen set aside her papers entirely and studied him for a long moment before speaking again.
"I will not waste your time with idle pleasantries," she said. "I have spent the past several weeks making certain inquiries regarding your household, specifically regarding your wife."
Alaric's confidence faltered slightly, though he kept his expression carefully neutral. "I am not certain I understand, Your Majesty. Has some concern been raised?"
The Queen's eyes narrowed slightly. "A concern, yes, though perhaps not the kind you expect." She leaned forward, folding her hands atop the desk. "Tell me, Duke Ashkam, in your own words: what kind of woman is your wife?"
The question caught him entirely off-guard, more direct and more personal than anything he had prepared for. He hesitated, searching for an answer that would satisfy the Queen while protecting his own pride.
"She is quiet," he said finally. "Dutiful. She manages the household accounts capably enough, though she lacks the polish expected of a duchess in social settings."
The Queen's expression did not change, though something in her eyes sharpened noticeably. "Lacks polish," she repeated slowly. "Is that truly your assessment, or merely the excuse you have offered yourself for treating her as you did at your own dinner table?"
Alaric felt heat rise to his face, caught between indignation and the uncomfortable realization that the Queen knew far more about that evening than he had assumed. "Your Majesty, I meant no true disrespect. It was only—"
"Only what?" the Queen interrupted, her voice sharp now, though still controlled. "Only cruelty disguised as wit, performed in front of a dozen guests at the expense of a woman who, by every account I have gathered, has done more genuine good for your estate and its people than you appear to have noticed in eight months of marriage."
She rose from her chair and walked slowly toward the window, her back to him for a moment as she continued speaking.
"I have learned, Duke Ashkam, that your wife personally funds a village school from her own modest allowance. That she walks miles on foot to care for sick tenants when she could easily send a servant in her place. That she settled a boundary dispute between two farming families with such fairness that both sides now speak of her with genuine respect—a feat few noblemen twice her age have managed to accomplish. And that the roofs on your eastern cottages, which would have collapsed under the weight of this winter's first heavy snow, stand repaired today because she insisted upon it against your own preference for stable renovations."