The palace was quiet.
Not the guarded quiet of the servant quarters, where silence meant safety and every creak could mean a beating. Not the tense quiet of the council chamber before a storm, where wolves measured their words like weapons. A different quiet. A waiting quiet. As if the very stones knew that tomorrow, everything would change.
Seren could not sleep.
She lay in the royal chambers, the rings heavy on her finger. Kael was beside her, his breathing deep and even, one arm thrown across his face, his chest rising and falling in a slow rhythm. Theron had curled at the foot of the bed like a cat, his mouth slightly open. Aeron sat in the chair by the window, his book open on his lap, his glasses sliding down his nose, his eyes closed.
But Seren's eyes would not close.
