(Romulus POV)
I woke to light.
Not the harsh glare of court mornings or the cold clarity of duty—but the muted gold that slipped through sheer curtains, warm and forgiving. For a moment, I did not move. I let myself exist in that narrow space between sleep and wakefulness, where the weight of the world had not yet returned to my chest.
Then I felt her.
Almera lay against me, her breathing slow and even, her warmth a steady presence beneath my arm. She was still weak—her body had not yet recovered fully—but there was strength there, too. Quiet resilience. The kind that endured without needing to announce itself.
I had stayed.
The realization settled over me with surprising clarity.
I had not planned to. I had intended to leave before dawn, as I always did. That was the rule I had never broken, even when I lingered, even when desire tempted me to forget who I was.
An emperor does not wake beside one woman when an entire harem exists to prevent such attachments.
And yet—
