When Elysia opened her eyes, the room was cloaked in darkness. She reached out instinctively to the other side of the bed, but it was empty. The king was gone. Letting out a soft sigh, she sat up, her gaze drifting toward the clock on the mantle. It read a few minutes past nine. She had slept for five hours, a luxury she had not experienced in days.
Taking a moment to collect herself, she swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood. Her fingers worked quickly to redo her braids, smoothing the stray strands of hair back into place. She chose a simpler gown from her wardrobe, one that was practical and subdued, the fabric dark and unadorned. Tonight was not the time for finery or frivolity.
Once she was satisfied with her appearance, Elysia stepped out of the room. The castle was eerily quiet, the usual hum of activity replaced by the tension of war. She walked down the hallway, her footsteps echoing faintly against the stone walls.
