The door to their private suite closed behind them with a soft, almost reverent sound, and for the first time all evening, the palace stopped existing. Everything remained distant and irrelevant on the other side of the walls, including the chandeliers, music, eyes, and politics. In here there was no kingdom demanding anything. No history pressing down on their lungs. Just the quiet hum of light and the warmth of a room that had learned how to breathe with them.
Chris let out a long breath he hadn't realized he was still holding. His shoulders loosened, fingers lifting automatically toward the clasp of his robe. He'd expected to start unwinding piece by piece, carefully shaking off the weight of presence and performance.
But Dax was already behind him.
