Clouds Before the Feast
Then Ben exhaled, his voice barely above a whisper. "...You always see too far ahead, Anna."
She smiled faintly, but there was no humor in it. "That's why you married me."
He almost laughed—but the sound died halfway out of his throat. Because she was right.
For a heartbeat, the weight of politics, war, and secrets pressed down on them both. The candlelight trembled, throwing long shadows over the study walls where scrolls and maps lay scattered. Then Anna's voice broke the silence—soft, calm, and strangely grounding.
"Darling," she said, her tone easing into something almost domestic. "Leave this matter for now. We'll handle it later. There's something more pressing at the moment."
Ben lifted his head, his eyes questioning. "More pressing than treason?"
"Yes," she sighed, the faintest trace of exasperation in her tone. "You forgot, didn't you?"
His brow furrowed. "Forgot what?"
