Daphne jumped, her hand flying to her chest as she spun around in her chair. There, leaning against her door, was Alaric. He wasn't dressed in his formal court attire, but in simple black trousers and a black shirt, a ghost in the shadows of her room.
"You startled me!" she said, her voice laced with genuine surprise. "Why do you always have to appear like a ghost?"
He moved into the light, a faint smirk on his lips. "Why are you always so easily startled?" he countered, his gaze unwavering. "Who else would dare to enter your room?"
Daphne ignored his question, her gaze fixed on the writing desk before her. He moved to her side, and in a smooth motion, he lifted her chin and gave her a quick, soft kiss on her lips, followed by a lingering one on her forehead. He then pulled a chair over and settled beside her.
"What are you writing?" he asked again, his voice now gentle.
