"We'll retire to our assigned quarters within your estate," Roman added, gesturing politely before taking the opposite corridor.
They vanished in silence—shadows with swords, trusted protectors in a world full of daggers.
Fenric continued down the hall, finally arriving at the familiar double doors of his private wing. As he stepped into the front parlor, the scent of lotus-scented incense greeted him—a calming aroma meant to ease one's spirit.
"Your Highness, welcome back," came the soft voice of the new head maid, a calm and composed woman in her mid-thirties named Theris. She bowed deeply, then rose, holding a small silver tray in her hands.
"Your evening medicine," she said, eyes downcast in practiced deference. "Prescribed by the palace alchemists for maintaining constitution. Instructions state it is to be taken with warm water after dusk."
She extended the tray toward him.
