Not yet

Later that night, you return to to the room and see that your mother is already waiting for you on the balcony of your room, sitting at the table. "You seem to fond of sitting and drinking at a small table," you observe.

"That I do, my son."

You walk to the balcony and look at the gate visible from there. Despite the darkness, you can make out outlines of the guards patrolling the entrance. "Just like how you are. You're only close to a small circle of people. Small, but intimate."

Your mother laughs with mirth on her eyes. "You're right. But if that's the case with me, isn't it the same thing with you, my king?"

You turned toward her, noting the different way of addressing used. "Excuse me?"

Your mother shakes her head. "Perhaps one day I will tell you."

What she said is very profound, you're sure. But you can wait for it. "Perhaps," you agree.

"I've just had my monthly visitor two days ago," your mother said.

"Is that so..." as you ponder the meaning of her words.