The royal chamber glowed with sleepy afternoon light, gold flooding in wide pools across the carpet and soaking the walls in warmth. Outside, late-spring breezes teased the balcony curtains, making them puff and settle like lazy sails. It smelled faintly of lavender polish, cooling cocoa, and parchment ink— the odd mix of work and comfort that had become their everyday.
Mikhailis sprawled sideways across the enormous bed, legs tangled in silk sheets that had long given up trying to stay neat. One arm pillowed his head; the other dangled a half-drunk mug of cocoa over his stomach. A smear of dark chocolate streaked the rim where he kept taking distracted sips. Reminder: tell the kitchen staff to add more cinnamon next batch, he thought, then promptly forgot.
