LaylaM2021
I remained behind in the throne room, seated at the long table pretending to read a report I had already memorised. Across from me, Harlowe stayed seated, his gaze lingering somewhere beyond the high windows, where the light fell pale and winter-thin across the stone.
After a moment, he murmured, almost to himself, "The day is near."
I glanced up. "What day?"
He smiled faintly, the sort of smile that carried memory rather than mirth. "Roden's birthday. It's next week."
I stared at him. "His birthday?" The words surprised me as much as the thought. "Roden never told me."