Morning arrived without ceremony.
It slipped into the palace the way it always did, curling around stone corridors and resting where it was welcome. By the time Ilaria stirred, the world had already decided to be kind. The night's heaviness had thinned into something manageable, folded neatly away with the memory of shared dinner, low voices, and the familiar comfort of Levan's presence beside her as midnight passed and sleep finally claimed them both.
The solarium greeted them.
Not the harsh glare of noon, but the gentle gold of early morning filtered through tall glass panes veined with age. Sunlight spilled across leaves and pale stone, catching on dew that clung stubbornly to the greenery. The windows stood open, just enough to let a breeze wander through whilst carrying the scent of earth and flowering citrus.
Ilaria was sitting at the tea table, cradling the porcelain mug of steamed coffee to warm her hands.
They had come here together.
