The man ignored Yasmin's instructions, placing the tray on the coffee table. His gentle voice seemed incongruous with his sturdy frame. "Your Majesty, if you don't eat, your body won't be able to cope."

Yasmin frowned, continuing to stare out the window. "I said I don't want to. Are you defying my orders, too?"

He approached her, his large form eclipsing the moonlight. Upset, the queen looked up. "What are you doing?"

"Your Majesty, you know I'll never defy your orders. However, I'll stay here to keep you company until you eat something," he said stubbornly, remaining in place.

Yasmin glared, but he stood placidly, arms crossed. After a while, her eyes grew sore. She looked down, rubbing them. "Just go. I'll have dinner later." He didn't move. "I'll take the tray away when you finish."

He wouldn't leave until she ate.

Yasmin became agitated. "I don't need your supervision!"

"Your health is my top priority, Your Majesty," he replied impassively.

"Rick, do you think you're special? Or do you think you've done a great service by helping me spy on Fred?" Yasmin demanded, narrowing her eyes.

The backlit man—Rick—stood silently, his expression unseen, yet radiating a sense of loneliness. "I don't, Your Majesty."

"You don't? Then why aren't you following my orders!" She grabbed a nearby glass and smashed it on the floor.

Rick remained unmoved. "You shouldn't get so worked up, Your Majesty," he said blandly.

"All thanks to you!" she retorted. Her distress seemed more petulant than genuinely enraged.

Rick bent over, picked up a glass of milk from the tray, and offered it to her. "If you don't have an appetite, at least have some milk. It'll help you sleep."

Yasmin accepted the milk, then paused, understanding his words. She sighed and set the glass down. "Sleep? It's not so easy to fall asleep." Besides her thoughts about Dominic, she had remained there precisely because she couldn't sleep.