Maximilian kept his head bowed, voice low. "If I hadn't asked Mr. Soren to consult about the next secretary, he might have stayed. He could have ensured Miss Starla's safety."
For a moment, silence stretched between them.
Then Clyde sighed, his tone firm but not unkind. "This isn't on you."
He was about to leave when Maximilian spoke again, the words sharp enough to stop him in his tracks.
"Pardon me for saying this, Your Majesty… but I've just learned that the rest of the higher-ups — along with the council — will be attending tomorrow's annual horse riding event."
Clyde's brows drew tight once more, frustration already bubbling beneath the surface. "And? What of it?"
A flicker of hesitation crossed Maximilian's face, as if he regretted even mentioning it.
"The rules…" he said, swallowing hard. "Shall I make arrangements so Mr. Ryley can still attend without—"
"Enough," Clyde cut him off, raising a hand, his voice clipped as he clicked his tongue in irritation.
