The heavy oak door creaked shut behind him, and with it, the echoes of Tyrol's grand ballroom faded into nothing.
The laughter, the music, the forced pleasantries, all smothered by the thick stone walls of his home.
Bruno drew a long breath, savoring the silence.
He tugged at the collar of his dress uniform, the medals clinking faintly as if mocking him, then shrugged the coat off his shoulders and draped it over the nearest chair.
The weight was gone, but the irritation lingered.
"Welcome home," came a voice, soft, warm, familiar.
He turned.
Heidi stood in the archway leading to the kitchen, not in silk or velvet as she had been only hours before, but in a simple house dress, sleeves rolled to her elbows, her hair loose over her shoulders.
No jewelry. No crown. Just his wife.
Bruno's hardened expression cracked, just slightly. "You sent them home early."
"Of course I did," Heidi said with a smile.
