The morning sun broke over the palace with a clarity that seemed to scour the shadows from the very stone. The dark mantle that had enshrouded the royal residence for weeks evaporated like a bad dream at the first light of dawn.
With it went the hushed whispers of the Prince's malaise, the rumors of his drinking, and the fear that the crown was slipping from a trembling hand.
Alpheo had emerged like a new man. The sickly pallor was gone, replaced by a lean, hungry energy. He was the Prince of old, meticulous in his labor, yet capable of trudging through the royal gardens with his children, appreciating the bloom of a rose or the call of a starling as if seeing them for the first time.
