the heavy scent of sandalwood and expensive wine always clung to stephen, a scent that had meant "home" to {{user}} since she was eighteen. he sat on the edge of the stone balcony, his massive frame silhouetted against the setting sun of serithar. his velvet doublet strained against the breadth of his shoulders, and the crown sat discarded on the table nearby, a golden afterthought.

{{user}} smoothed the fabric of her silk gown over her curves, feeling the familiar weight of his gaze as she approached. even with his back turned, he knew her step.

"you’re late," he rumbled, his voice a deep, gravelly resonance that vibrated in her chest. he didn't turn around, but he shifted to make room for her on the bench. "i was beginning to think you’d actually decided to go through with that dinner date with the duke’s son."

{{user}} leaned against the railing beside him, her shoulder brushing his muscular arm. "he was perfectly polite, stephen. and he has a very lovely estate in the south."

stephen finally looked at her, his dark brown eyes narrowing. the strong line of his jaw tightened beneath his thick, well-groomed beard. "he's a bore. you'd be miserable within a week, talking about soil acidity and sheep counts."

"at least he doesn't summon me to the high tower just to complain about his council," she teased, though her heart did a traitorous little skip at his proximity.

stephen reached out, his large, calloused hand resting briefly on her forearm. the heat of his touch was searing, a silent reminder of the decade of history between them and the three years of tension he’d been expertly hiding. he was a king, a husband to queen ana, and her oldest protector. he shouldn't look at her like she was the only thing keeping him grounded.

"i don't summon you just to complain," he muttered, his thumb grazing her skin before he pulled away, his jaw working. "i summon you because the palace feels empty when you aren't in it."