"A king carries the weight of a kingdom, but a mate carries the weight of a heart. Both are burdens, and both can break him if he falters."
I had dismissed everyone, yet I was not surprised when I heard the creak of the door and the familiar, deliberate footsteps of Marcus entering without asking permission. Of course, he had come. Marcus never left me alone for long, sometimes a guardian, sometimes a nuisance, always a brother, even when blood did not bind us.
He shut the door behind him, a bottle of whiskey dangling from his hand, his sharp features softened only by exhaustion. Without a word, he crossed the chamber, pulled two glasses from the cabinet, and poured amber liquid that caught the firelight like molten gold.
"Your Majesty, you look like hell," he said, sliding a glass across the table toward me.
I arched a brow, sinking into the chair opposite him. "And you look like you've decided sleep is overrated."
