A fanciful notion

The Queen stands at the open window, moonlight spilling across her silk robe. Her heart aches with worry but there is no one to share her burden.

When she saw Yetsune earlier, part of her wished her daughter had not been found— perhaps then, she wouldn't have to go through with the alliance marriage. Perhaps then, she wouldn't have to watch her daughter walk the same dark path as the late Empress.

Fwip! A fan suddenly spreads open outside the window, making her flinch and clutch her chest with a sharp intake of breath.

"It's me," comes the low, mischievous voice she knows too well. Lord Azryn peeks above the window frame, pressing a finger to his lips.

The Queen breathes a sigh of relief. "You scared me half to death!" she whispers, glancing back to ensure the King is still asleep. She quickly moves to the edge of the window, glaring at Azryn. "How did you get in? The patrol—"