The golden rays of the morning sun spilled through the tall windows of the royal chamber, painting long lines of light across polished marble and rich tapestries. They climbed slowly over silken sheets and gilded furnishings, until they touched the edge of the great bed in the center of the room, where the Princess of Yarzat lay.
Jasmine stirred with a soft, involuntary murmur, her limbs stretching slightly beneath the delicate weight of the blankets. She had slept diagonally across the wide bed, her head nestled deep into the pillows, one arm sprawled above her crown like a sun-drenched sculpture, the other draped lazily over her bloated midsection.
Her dark hair was a gentle mess, thick, rich locks , the ends fluffy with sleep and stray strands curling in every direction.
As she shifted, the blanket slid down her side with the slow grace of silk, baring the curve of her bare back and shoulder.
