Conaan did not move, his expression stoic and set in stone as he watched Eleanor. Her eyes darted slowly across both of them, her brows raising in hopes of a response, her grip on the two dresses she had held in her hands tightening.

"Brandon? Why were you associating His Highness with death?"

Brandon swallowed as he slowly turned to meet Conaan's eyes. Conaan moved his eyes to Brandon's and he raised his brow a little higher, a silent agreement passing between them.

"Well, my queen..." he started, the lightness in his voice betraying all the tension that had been in the room just a moment ago. "I was asking...