The morning sun filtered through the stained-glass windows of the royal chambers, casting colored light across the marble floor. Queen Selene stood at the window, hands clasped before her, her face serene but thoughtful.
Behind her, King Aldric adjusted his ceremonial robes, his movements mechanical, his mind clearly elsewhere. Ever since the revelation of Anastasia’s true parentage, a distance had settled between them—a silence they did not know how to bridge.
Selene turned.
“My lord,” she said gently.
Aldric glanced at her, weary but attentive.
“I have decided,” she continued, “to give you time. Time to reflect. Time to heal. Time to breathe.”
He furrowed his brow.
“I will visit Anastasia in Varethia. Spend a few days with her—and with the kind souls who raised her. When I return,
