She's Awake

The bedroom was steeped in silence, save for the soft rustle of curtains and the distant murmur of the castle waking with the morning sun.

The grand chamber, draped in silken sheets and adorned with gold accents, felt heavier than it should — as though the air itself mourned for the princess lying motionless in the bed.

By her side, Jean sat, her shoulders trembling, her tear-streaked face buried in the back of Salviana's delicate hand. The lady-in-waiting's sobs were broken, scattered like glass shards against the hush of the room.