Night in Avaloria felt different after you returned from the road.
On the road, darkness was practical. It meant rest, warmth, Alexander's steady presence beside him in unfamiliar rooms. It meant quiet conversations and shared laughter muffled by thin walls.
In the palace, darkness felt heavy.
Lucien lay awake on the wide bed, staring up at the ceiling he'd admired barely two nights ago. The stone arches loomed overhead, beautiful and unyielding, like they were reminding him exactly where he was and what was expected of him.
He exhaled slowly.
Alexander lay beside him, one arm draped loosely over Lucien's waist, his breathing slow and even. He was asleep. Or at least pretending to be. Lucien had learned that Alexander often hovered in that half-awake state, alert even while resting.
Lucien shifted carefully, trying not to wake him.
It didn't work.
