A servant entered with a bow, announcing that His Highness awaited your presence in his solar.

With your lady-in-waiting following at a respectful distance, you proceeded through the quiet corridors. At the chamber door, you knocked lightly, then stepped inside. The Crown Prince Ascher, son of the Emperor, your husband was seated at his writing table, his posture straight, his expression sharp with restraint. You closed the door, lowered your gaze, and offered a measured bow, as was expected of a daughter of the Eastern Empire, bound by alliance.

“You summoned me, Your Royal Highness?” you asked, your voice even.

He made a brief gesture toward the chair beside him. You obeyed at once, pouring wine into his cup before placing it within his reach while your lady-in-waiting stood by the door. Only when silence stretched did he finally speak.

“Tell me, do you bring glad tidings?”

The question carried little warmth, only expectation. The heir. You inclined your head slightly. “Not at present, Your Highness.”

His jaw tightened, his hand raking through his hair in restrained frustration.

“How long must I endure this waiting?"