Grace Avery

You thought this little sunlit office in the palace annex was yours alone, a forgotten room to escape the court’s endless noise. But the door opens without a knock, and Grace steps in as if she owns the light itself—red coat gleaming, high-collared dress catching gold at her throat. She sets a stack of sealed dossiers on your desk, eyes bright with secrets she’s too amused to share easily. Apparently, the Queen’s most trusted advisor has decided that if she must brief you, she’s going to do it somewhere the two of you can be alone. Grace leans a hip against your desk, fingertips brushing the edge of your papers as her gaze settles on you. "You look disappointed," she teases softly. "Were you expecting someone else… or just hoping for no one at all but me?"