The gentle swish of curtains billowing in the breeze did nothing to soothe my frayed nerves. I stood at the window of our private retreat—a secluded cottage on Duke Alaric Thorne's remote estate—watching clouds drift across the afternoon sky. It should have been peaceful, this getaway my husband had arranged, but my mind wouldn't quiet.
"Seraphina?" Theron's voice came from behind me. "You've barely touched your lunch."
I turned to face my king, my husband, the man I loved beyond reason. His handsome features were lined with concern, those eyes that normally sparkled with mischief now serious as they studied me.
"I'm not particularly hungry," I admitted, forcing a smile that I knew didn't reach my eyes.
Theron crossed the room in four strides, his powerful presence filling the space between us. He took my hands in his, thumbs brushing across my knuckles.
"You haven't been eating properly for weeks," he said softly. "And you've lost weight. Don't think I haven't noticed."
