56: PROTECT THE QUEEN

The first golden streaks of morning light seeped through the tall windows of Alaric's chamber, painting the stone walls with soft amber hues. The room was silent, save for the distant cawing of birds outside and the slow, steady breaths of the king, still tangled in the silken sheets of his grand bed. The air was cool from the lingering chill of the night, carrying the faint scent of burning candle wax and damp stone. 

Alaric lay still, his bare chest rising and falling in slow rhythm, his body heavy with sleep. His mind drifted in the quiet haze of morning, caught between rest and wakefulness, until a noise disturbed the fragile peace, a soft knock, barely audible, yet insistent.