Dax should have arrived by noon.
It was nearly three.
The palace, no, Dax's palace, but apparently now his by extension, was quiet in a way that made his stomach twist. No footsteps echoing down the corridors, no murmured orders, no subtle wave of movement that usually followed the king's return.
Chris had told himself he didn't care. He'd told Rowan, Nadia, and even Hanna, with unnecessary dramatics, that Dax's absence was "a blessing for everyone involved." But there he was, sprawled across the manicured grass of one of the private gardens connected to the royal suite, glaring at the sun like it had personally betrayed him.
It was peaceful here, deceptively so. The sky was clear, the scent of polished cedar still clung to the marble edges of the terrace, and the grass was cool under his back. It should have been a perfect setting for relaxation… if he weren't very obviously waiting.
The thought alone made him groan and cover his face with one arm.
