The afternoon light filtered through the latticed windows of Dowager Queen Aelira's bedchamber, scattering pale gold across the polished stone floor.
The silken canopy above her bed stirred with the breeze, carrying the faint scent of lavender from the gardens.
Aelira reclined against her velvet cushions with a stillness that spoke of discipline, not ease. Even she, who had weathered the tempests of court for decades, felt the undercurrent of anticipation tightening in her chest.
Across from her, Lady Levina adjusted the folds of her gown with unnecessary precision, her restless fingers betraying what her composed face sought to conceal. Her gaze flicked again and again toward the door.
"You seem uneasy, Mother," Levina murmured, her voice quiet, but edged with curiosity. "Is it his return that unsettles you? My brother....and the woman he brings with him?"
