(Almera POV)
Morning in Constantine did not arrive gently.
It unfolded.
Light filtered through tall arched windows in measured layers, touching marble, silk, and polished gold as though the palace itself decided what deserved illumination and what did not. The air remained still, quiet in a way that did not comfort, only observed.
I was already awake when the knock came.
Not because I had expected it.
But because this place did not allow for unguarded rest.
Romulus stood near the window, his silhouette outlined by pale morning light, already dressed, already composed, as though the night had not existed for him at all.
"Enter," he said.
The door opened.
A servant stepped in, head lowered, movements precise.
"Your Majesty. Imperial Consort."
His voice was respectful.
Controlled.
But there was something beneath it.
Urgency carefully restrained.
He extended a sealed document with both hands.
"For your attention."
Romulus took it.
Did not open it immediately.
