The darkness inside the princess' chambers was alarmingly still.
Used to Lorelai being the only one retiring to bed last, Rhaegar could not help but feel worried that something had happened to her earlier.
Was it her meeting with the Crown Prince? The amount of work she had to shoulder? Or was it the diet that tied her down to her bed so early in the evening?
Concealed in the shadows of the room, the man quietly approached the princess' bed and furrowed his brows as his amber eyes fixed on the empty cup on her nightstand.
'Morphine.'
Thanks to the heightened sense of smell he inherited from his beastly lineage, it was not that difficult to discern the peculiar smell of the drug tincture that was still lingering over the porcelain walls of the cup.
