A presence stood beside Edric’s bed.

  Even half-asleep, he sensed it immediately.

  There was no hostility in the air—only warmth, curiosity… and mischief.

  He chose not to open his eyes.

  Sleep, after all, was a luxury he rarely indulged in without calculation. If there was no threat, there was no need to rush.

  A soft breath brushed against him.

  Then—

  A teasing whisper.

  “Good morning, Your Highness.”

  Edric’s eyelids lifted slightly.

  Daphne knelt beside the bed, dressed in her neatly pressed maid uniform. Her short brown hair framed a face that carried both innocence and boldness in equal measure.

  “You’re awake,” she said brightly.

  “Barely,” Edric muttered.

  But Daphne was not discouraged.

  She leaned closer, her voice lowering conspiratorially.

  “I read somewhere that proper attendants should ensure their master wakes in a pleasant mood.”

  Edric studied her through half-lidded eyes.

  “And who taught you that?”

  She puffed her cheeks slightly. “Someone experienced.”

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  His lips curved faintly.

  Daphne had changed since coming to the palace. The timid girl who once trembled at noble gazes had grown more confident—especially around him.

  She reached out, brushing a strand of dark hair from his face.

  “Today is important, isn’t it?” she asked more softly.

  He nodded.

  Training. Strategy. The silent war unfolding within the Eldoria Imperium.

  And yet—

  For this brief moment, none of it pressed against him.

  “You look troubled even when sleeping,” Daphne added.

  “Occupational hazard.”

  She giggled.

  Then, unexpectedly, she climbed lightly onto the bed and leaned closer, resting her forehead against his.

  “Then let me fix that.”

  There was no vulgarity in the gesture—only warmth.

  Edric’s hand instinctively moved to her waist, steadying her. She stiffened for half a second before relaxing.

  “You’ve become bold,” he observed.

  “Is that bad?”

  “No.”

  He pulled her closer, not forcefully—just enough to remind her of the connection they shared.

  Daphne’s cheeks flushed faintly.

  “You’re smiling,” she whispered triumphantly.

  “Am I?”

  “Yes.”

  She beamed, satisfied.

  For a while, they simply lay there. The early sunlight filtering through the curtains painted gold across the room.

  Eventually, Daphne straightened, regaining her composure.

  “You should prepare for training,” she said, slipping back into her role as attendant. “Sir Caleb Northwind is already waiting in the courtyard.”

  Edric raised an eyebrow. “You’re monitoring my schedule now?”

  “Of course,” she said proudly. “It’s my duty.”

  He sat up slowly, the ease in his expression fading into its usual calculated calm.

  But before he rose completely, Daphne surprised him again.

  She leaned forward and placed a soft kiss against his cheek.

  “For good luck,” she said quickly, retreating before he could react.

  Edric touched the spot lightly.

  “… Careful, Daphne.”

  “Why?” she asked, feigning innocence.

  “Because if you keep testing me like that,” he replied smoothly, “you might find I don’t always show restraint.”

  Her face turned crimson.

  “You’re bullying me, Your Highness.”

  “Perhaps.”

  She stuck out her tongue playfully before hurrying to the door.

  “I’ll prepare your clothes!”

  When she left, the room felt quieter—but lighter.

  Edric rose from the bed and walked toward the window.

  The palace courtyard stretched below, and beyond it, the towering structures of the capital.

  Lyanna Astrid wrestled with guilt.

  Ronan Blackmere wrestled with fear.

  And Daphne Kael—

  She represented something far simpler.

  Loyalty.

  Affection.

  Possibility.

  Edric’s expression hardened once more.

  The game continued.

  But even kings needed moments of warmth before stepping back onto the battlefield.