.
.
.
Hours later, the heavy oak doors of the Empress Regent's private chambers clicked shut, locking the rest of the empire out.
The Frost-Stalker—which Julian had inexplicably decided to name "Snowball"—was curled up on the thick rug near the roaring fireplace, already fast asleep.
Elara stood by the grand vanity, carefully removing the heavy silver combs from her hair. Julian stood behind her, watching her through the mirror. The heavy, political tension of the day had finally burned away, leaving only the quiet, intimate silence of their shared space.
"You terrified half the continent tonight," Julian noted softly, walking up behind her and wrapping his arms around her waist.
"I updated their parameters," Elara corrected, leaning back against his chest. "It was necessary."
Julian pressed a kiss to the curve of her neck. His hands slid smoothly up to her shoulders, gently pushing the heavy crimson silk of her gown down her arms.
