Natalie POV
The royal bedchamber was silent save for the crackle of pine logs burning in the massive stone hearth. The suffocating tension of the Obsidian Gallery felt miles away, yet the heavy, unyielding scent of cinnamon and bitter chocolate filling the room served as a constant reminder of the man who had just rewritten the laws of the north to keep me by his side.
Richard set me down gently onto the edge of the expansive, fur-lined mattress. His movements lacked their usual rough, aggressive velocity; instead, his large hands lingered on my waist for a fraction of a second before he stepped back, unbuckling his gold-trimmed military coat and throwing it onto a nearby leather chair.
Without the heavy wool armor of his uniform, the physical toll of the contract fracture was visible.
