Nevara
The other side of the bed was cold.
I blinked up at the gauzy canopy overhead, the light filtering through it soft and golden. Mid-morning. Maybe later. I didn’t bother checking.
He’d come to bed sometime after I stormed out last night. I’d felt the mattress dip, the whisper of his arm brushing mine, the way he’d turned toward me but stopped short of touching.
I didn’t move. Didn’t breathe too deep. Just played dead.
Apparently, he’d gotten the message.
Because now, the bed was empty. Again.
A quiet knock sounded at the door before it creaked open. Sabrina slipped inside carrying a breakfast tray set with eggs, toast, fresh fruit, and what looked like a cream-filled pastry from the kitchen downstairs I loved.
“Good morning,” she said with a small smile. “His Majesty figured
