Days had passed. Still, Zavren hadn't returned. Ariana sat silently in her chair by the window, staring up at the moonlight. It was bright tonight—strangely bright.
The way she sat, someone would think she was trying to count the countless stars. She didn't even know how long she'd been there. At least it was a starry night—and that alone was a good sign.
She tried to stay calm, reminding herself that her husband was a strong man. But even with that truth, the ache in her chest only deepened.
Why was she worried?
She'd tried to tell herself it was her duty as queen to be concerned for her husband. But even that seemed like the most unconvincing thing she'd ever said to herself—even though she was trying to believe it.
Wasn't she supposed to be relieved that he wasn't here?
Wasn't that what she told herself after failing to convince herself otherwise?
Yet… her heart ached. Anxious thoughts refused to leave her mind.
