The next day came quietly, too quietly for a palace that had forgotten what silence felt like.
The late morning light filtered through the curtains, brushing against the edge of the bed and turning the air a soft, diluted gold. The world beyond the windows had faint traces of movement, a cart somewhere in the courtyard, and a servant's voice lost in the distance, but everything inside was still.
Christopher woke first.
For a long moment, he couldn't place where he was. His body, still tuned to tension, registered only warmth and weight. The air was faintly scented with cedar soap and the clean trace of someone else's cologne, sharper and more expensive than his own. He shifted slightly, expecting the blanket to move with him, and froze when it didn't.
