The knock came just as the morning had settled into comfortable quiet after Bason's arrival.
Aya and Killan both turned toward the door, while Bason resumed his guarding pose.
It was not the hesitant tap of a servant unsure whether the room was occupied, but the practiced knock of someone who had already been informed of the occupants and their likely state.
Killan rose first.
Aya watched him cross the room, tying the last fastening of his shirt as he went. The King of the South had returned to something resembling his usual composure, though his hair still held the faint disorder of sleep and the morning light had softened the sternness she was accustomed to seeing in court.
He opened the door.
Two maids stood outside with a breakfast tray balanced between them.
They curtsied immediately when they saw him.
"Your Grace."
Killan stepped aside to allow them in.
