Many years ago, in the front courtyard of the duchy, the warmth of late spring had settled over the pale stone. Sunlight streamed through the open arches, casting long shadows across the ground.
Somewhere nearby, gardeners were trimming the hedges, and the fresh scent of cut grass mingled with the warmth of the marble.
Olivia sat in a broad, cushioned chair, enjoying the peaceful afternoon. Her husband sat nearby, occasionally glancing at her with a smile as she cradled their infant son in her arms.
Little Kraven was still so young that he could barely hold his head steady. His tiny fingers clutched the fabric of her dress, and his cheeks were soft and round. Every now and then, he would make a small, impatient sound, as though the world had already given him more reasons to complain than he could bear.
Olivia laughed softly at his impatience. She adjusted him in her arms, drew aside the neckline of her dress, and gently guided him toward her breast.
