(Romulus POV)
I woke before the sun.
This was not unusual. What unsettled me was why.
There was no report waiting to be read. No crisis pressing against the edges of consciousness. No council dispute simmering in the dark.
Yet my body refused rest, as if some part of me had already risen and begun pacing.
The curtains stirred faintly with the morning breeze, letting in a thin ribbon of pale light. I lay still, staring at the ceiling, listening to the quiet rhythm of the oasis beyond the walls.
And then—unbidden—
I saw her smile.
Not the composed one she wore before court. Not the serene calm she had shown before the Church.
But the unguarded laugh she had given Arthur the day before.
It struck deeper than any accusation ever could.
I sat up slowly, fingers pressing into the mattress.
This is not concern, I told myself. This is not politics.
I had never begrudged a man his competence. Nor his loyalty. Nor even his closeness to power.
But closeness to her—
