Jack's eyes opened to the golden light streaming through his window.
For the first time in what felt like forever, his body didn't ache.
He lay there for a moment, savoring the unfamiliar sensation. The sheets were soft against his skin. The air carried the faint scent of breakfast being prepared somewhere below.
Birds sang outside his window. Normal birds, not chickens trying to claim his bed as their personal roost.
His father, Duke Alaric, and his mother, Lady Genevieve, had returned yesterday.
He'd heard their arrival through the manor's walls.
The clatter of horses, the shouted greetings from guards, Octavia's voice rising in relief as she greeted them.
Jack sat up slowly, rolling his shoulders. The movement was smooth, effortless.
He stood, crossed to the washbasin, and splashed cold water on his face. The reflection staring back at him looked older than it should.
