[Imperial Palace—Afternoon—Lavinia's POV — Office— Weeks later]
The sun filtered lazily through the tall windows, painting golden streaks across parchment and ink. My study smelled faintly of roses from the garden, but the towering stacks of reports and scrolls in front of me destroyed any sense of peace.
I tapped my quill against the desk, glaring at the same sentence for the third time. My cheek was pressed against my palm, lips pursed. If staring hard enough could erase paperwork, I would have been free by now.
"Rey…" I sighed, voice dragging. "Did you look over the Marquess's shipments yet?"
From across the room, Rey peeked over his mountain of documents, eyes rimmed with annoyance. "Princess, don't you think you're being a bit cruel? You already buried me alive with guild reports, letters, and contracts—and now you want me to babysit that old traitor's shipment logs? Do you hate me, or are you just that cruel?"
