The dining room in the east wing of the palace was quiet except for the soft clink of silverware against fine china. Tall windows let in the late afternoon light, but the atmosphere at the table felt colder than the weather outside. Daniel sat at the head of the long table, posture perfect, movements precise and economical as he cut into his food. Across from him, King Reginald and Queen Eleanor watched their son in silence. Neither of them had spoken beyond the most basic greetings since the meal began.

The distance between Daniel and his parents had grown into something wide and nearly permanent in the five years since...