Delia stirred in her sleep, a soft, incoherent noise escaping her lips as the bright morning sun streamed through the large bedroom window, disturbing the peaceful darkness of her eyelids. A large, warm hand shot out from beside her, blocking the intrusive sunlight. She turned away from the light, snuggling deeper into the warmth of the bed, and fluttered her eyes open a little to see Eric. He was already awake, propped up on one elbow, staring intently down at her.
"Eric," she said, her voice still thick with sleep as her eyes fully opened.
He brushed the stray strands of her dark hair that had fallen across her face while she slept. "Good morning, my Duchess," he said, but his voice was unusually quiet, his usual morning cheerfulness absent. " Did you sleep well?" He asked, his voice soft.
"Are you alright?" she asked, her own expression turning to one of concern. "Something seems to be troubling you. What is it?"
