The chamber was warm, lit softly by the amber glow of the hearth, the fire crackling with gentle comfort. The princess of Yarzat sat on a cushioned bench beside the window, the velvet curtains drawn back just enough to let in a sliver of starlight. In her arms wriggled a bundle of silk and joy—Basil, her five-month-old son, cheeks like ripe peaches and eyes wide with boundless curiosity.
She bounced him gently on her knee, one hand steadying his little back as he squealed with delight, his pudgy legs kicking in excited rebellion against the soft linen of her gown.
Before her on a low desk sat a single letter, folded with care, its crimson wax seal stamped with the sun-and-crescent emblem of House Veloni-isha.
The seal was hers, and yet it belonged equally to another now—her husband, Alpheo, who had taken her house name when they wed.
