[Silthara Palace — Malika's Residency — Morning]
Morning arrived quietly in Silthara.
A pale wash of silver light spilled through the towering windows of the Malika's residence, softening the cold edges of marble and silk alike. The palace had not yet fully awakened; the corridors beyond were still hushed, the servants' footsteps distant, the clatter of morning duties only beginning to stir somewhere far below.
Inside the imperial chamber, warmth still lingered.
Zeramet stirred slowly, his body heavy with the remnants of too little sleep and far too many thoughts. For a moment, he remained still beneath the silken covers, listening to the soft breathing in the room, the distant call of a morning bird somewhere beyond the open window, and the faint rustle of blankets shifting against one another.
Then he opened his eyes and immediately frowned.
Levin was not there.
