Alaric's POV
The meeting dragged later than I intended, but when I finally stepped into our chambers, the weight of strategy and ink-stained parchments fell away at the sight of her.
Daphne sat near the fire, a basket of yarn at her side, her fingers moving as she worked the needles.
Her hair spilled like sunlight down her shoulders, catching the glow of the flames.
No crown, no jewels, no courtly armor. Just her...simple, unguarded, breathtaking.
My heart stilled in my chest.
Then, as always, it began its maddening thunder.
Ten months of marriage and still, every time I saw her like this, the ache was fresh.
Obsession...that was what it was.
I had tried to name it something softer, devotion, adoration, love. But none of those words fit the storm she stirred in me.
She was my gravity.
My air. My sanity.
And when I thought of losing her, even in imagination, I unraveled.
Tomorrow was her birthday.
