Her slippers clicked lightly against the marble as she made her way to the study.
Inside, Marcus and Carlden stood before Alaric's desk, maps and scrolls scattered across the polished wood.
At the sound of the door, both men turned.
"Your Highness," they greeted, bowing respectfully before making their quick exit, leaving her alone with her husband.
Alaric had risen from his chair, but he stood utterly still, his green eyes locked on her.
His hand, still resting on the edge of the desk, tightened imperceptibly.
Daphne tilted her head, confused by his silence. "Ric?" she called softly.
No answer.
She tried again, this time firmer. "Alaric."
He blinked as if breaking from a spell, inhaling sharply.
His voice, when it came, was low and reverent, raw with emotion.
"Goodness, Daphne…" His eyes swept over her as though committing her to memory. "If beauty had a final form, it would be you standing before me now."
