The chamber was quiet in the way only royal rooms ever were—thick curtains swallowing sound, polished marble reflecting candlelight without warmth.
The air carried a faint floral scent, subtle and deliberate, meant to soothe visitors and remind them exactly whose space they stood in.
Aiden sat straight-backed in the chair opposite the desk, boots planted firmly, hands resting loosely on his knees.
Across from him, Queen Alethea Albinos regarded him with calm, pale eyes—measured, unreadable, and very much awake to every nuance in the room.
"Your Majesty," Aiden began, breaking the silence with an easy confidence that bordered on familiarity, "thank you for seeing me on such short notice."
Queen Alethea inclined her head slightly. "Sir Aiden, your requests tend to arrive with urgency attached. I would be remiss to ignore them."
