Alpheo leaned heavily against the ironwood doorway of his private chambers, a broad shoulder pressed firmly against the polished frame as he quietly regarded his wife.
They had returned to their sanctuary late, long after his new sister-by-marriage had spun her final, exhausting round across the palace lawns. The rest of the court had retired tired but thoroughly satisfied. Well, all save for the King himself. Alpheo had dared to dance only once, making an absolute, toe-crushing botch of it, though his young son Basil had certainly danced enough for both their keep.
