"Alaric," she gasped, her voice trembling but certain. "We cannot go for the hunt. We can't go."
Alaric sat up instantly, moving with a fluid, terrifying speed that suggested he hadn't been sleeping at all, but merely standing guard in the dark. He looked down at her, his expression unreadable.
"What did you say, my love?" he asked, his voice a low, steady rumble.
"I said we have to reject the invitation to the hunt," Salviana repeated, her voice gaining strength despite the tremor in her hands. She sat up to face him, the silk sheets pooling around her waist. "It is not safe, Alaric. We cannot go."
He didn't scoff or dismiss her. Instead, he reached out, drawing her back into the heat of his chest. He held her in a comforting, endearing hug, his chin resting atop her head as his hand traced soothing circles along her spine.
"Why do you say so?" he asked softly. "It is just a royal tradition, a game of pride among my brothers."
