And then, as if the whiplash wasn't enough, she had cited a 'medical prescription' from the Chief Physician to mandate that they spend quality time together.
Julian let out a soft, incredulous chuckle under his breath as they turned the final corner.
He had expected them to go to the gardens. He had imagined a quiet afternoon sitting on the sunlit balcony, perhaps drinking more of his carbonated tea while she analyzed a tax ledger and he plotted his next ridiculous purchase. He thought "spending time" meant simply existing in the same localized space without the threat of assassination or economic collapse looming over their heads.
But when the heavy mahogany doors of their private chambers clicked shut behind them, Elara did not walk toward the balcony. She did not move toward the plush velvet sofas near the reading table.
Instead, Elara marched directly to the center of the massive, midnight-blue bedroom and stopped at the foot of their colossal four-poster bed.
