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Evening.
Third Prince Chambers, Wyfkeep Castle.
Wyfellon, Wyfn-Garde.
~~~{─────────────
Alaric stepped into their chambers, his shoulders still tense from the day's grueling meetings when the scent of the space, subtly marked by Salviana's presence, greeted him warmly.
He paused, taking in small but noticeable changes around the room—her fiery hair in a comb by the window, perhaps placed by her hand.
How did she lose so much hair? He wondered with a frown.
He looked further and noticed her delicate shawl draped over a chair.
These small touches softened the room, lending it a sense of warmth he'd never felt before. Aside from his mothers lily.
Two of the maids greeted him with low curtsies and practiced smiles.
