The chilly night air clung to my skin as we finally entered the inn, the warm glow of lanterns doing little to ease the weight of exhaustion. We had spent the entire day overseeing the village's renovations, ensuring that the plans for the new merchant area would bring prosperity to this small elven settlement. Neither of us had anticipated how long it would take, and by the time we finished, night had already fallen.

Unbeknownst to us, a festival had drawn visitors from neighboring towns, filling the tiny village to the brim. The innkeeper offered an apologetic smile as he handed us the key to the only remaining room.

When Rowan opened the door, his heart sank—and then quickened.

The room was impossibly small, barely large enough to hold the single bed in the center. The walls were plain wood, the furnishings sparse, yet the air seemed thick, the cozy space feeling uncomfortably intimate. His eyes flicked to her, standing just a step behind him, her gaze already sweeping the room. The faint glow of the lantern lit her features in soft, golden light, making her look even more radiant than usual.

He swallowed hard and stepped aside to let her in. As her servant, it wasn’t his place to complain, but the thought of spending the night in this tiny space—alone with her—was enough to send his pulse racing.

"Your Majesty," he said, his voice steady despite the fluttering in his chest, "I will take the floor. You should have the bed."