The glittering chandeliers of the royal palace cast a warm glow over King Theron's birthday celebration, but I couldn't shake the nagging unease that had plagued me all evening. A servant offered me another glass of wine, which I declined with a subtle shake of my head.
"Come now, Alaric," Theron said, clapping my shoulder. "It's my birthday celebration. Surely you can indulge a bit more."
"I promised Isabella I wouldn't drink excessively tonight," I replied, watching the dancers swirl across the ballroom floor. My eyes constantly searched for my wife among the crowd, that persistent feeling of disquiet growing stronger.
Theron raised an eyebrow. "The fearsome Duke, tamed by his Duchess? Who would have thought?"
"Mock all you want," I said, my attention still divided. "I simply don't have a good feeling tonight."
"Your instincts bothering you again?" Theron's tone shifted, becoming more serious. He knew better than most that my hunches were rarely wrong.
