Morning came without ceremony.
No bells, no calls, no sense of urgency—only light.
Luke woke slowly, dragged from sleep not by sound but by warmth. Sunlight filtered through the glass set high into the ceiling, spilling down in pale sheets that turned the room soft and gold. It took him a moment to remember where he was. The guest chamber. Hematheas. The palace.
And then he shifted.
The blanket slid slightly, cool air brushing his skin, and awareness settled in. He was naked—fully so—covered only from the waist down by linen that had twisted sometime during the night. There was no shock in the realisation, no panic. Just a quiet acknowledgement, like noticing the weather.
He sat up, rubbing a hand over his face, hair falling messily over his brow. His body felt heavy in a good way—spent, relaxed, grounded. Not sore. Just… used. Lived in.
When he turned his head, he saw her.
