A month passed in a quiet blur since Lucian and Ruelle had spoken their vows.
And there were no signs of pushback against the treaty. Between Lord Azriel, Elder Minister Carnifex and King Septimus' rule, no one dared invite the wrath of these men.
Winter had begun to melt in the presence of the sun, clearing clouds from the sky.
The people had gradually settled back into their usual rhythm, yet they were not short of gossip. News had spread that the newlyweds had not returned to the capital yet, choosing instead to remain secluded at the summerhouse. The curious gossipers couldn't help but believe that it would only be a matter of time before the Slater family would announce about an heir.
Right now in the Slaters' summerhouse, Ruelle was blanketed in Lucian's arms, their clothes lying scattered on the room's floor. The late morning sun filtered lazily through the curtains.
