Seren woke to sunlight streaming through the windows.
The bed was empty: Kael was already training in the yard, Theron buried in his intelligence office, Aeron seated in the council chamber. The first anniversary of their coronation, and they had all risen before dawn. Some things never changed.
She stretched, her locket warm against her chest. Three rings; silver, white gold, black steel, glittered on her finger. Outside, the city was waking. Inside, the palace hummed with the quiet rhythm of duty.
Lysa knocked and entered, carrying a tray of breakfast. Fresh bread, honey, a pot of tea. "You're supposed to be celebrating."
"I'm supposed to be ruling. Celebrating happens after."
"You're impossible."
"I'm queen. Still the same thing."
Lysa set down the tray and perched on the edge of the bed. "What's on the schedule?"
