The next morning, Aylin awoke to soft light slipping past the stone window slats, casting golden stripes across the plush blanket tangled around her legs. The fortress was quieter than usual, with no clinking of armor or distant shouts from the courtyard. The silence was broken only by the rhythmic sound of wind trickling through the forest in the distance. Sasha's side of the bed was empty and cold; he had most likely been called by his duties and people.
Aylin's brow furrowed as she remembered pleading with Sasha to mark her, terrified of having to return to Silverclaw Castle.
She stretched slowly, as much as the pain in her back allowed. Sasha's cream and healer tonics had significantly reduced the intensity of the pain.
The door creaked open, and Aimee entered, carrying a pile of clothes far too colorful for the typical fortress palette.
"Up, your highness," Aimee grinned, dropping the bundle at the foot of the bed. "We're going out."
