The night, Far from the throne hall, tucked within the East Wing of the Kingdom of Anathema Palace, the air had grown colder. The Winter Solarium glowed with soft, magical frost-light. It was a private chamber of glass and stone, where golden vines curled up the frosted windows, and snowflakes drifted lazily on the other side of the enchanted glass ceiling. The snow drifted gently beyond the glass solarium dome, blanketing the outer courtyards in moon-kissed white. Within, the space was warmed by the silent spells woven into the marble floors, and the soft glow of frost-light blooms lit the corners in a subdued red haze.
King Alfenzo reclined on a velvet chaise, robes loosened, a half-full goblet of blood-red wine cradled lazily in his hand. Draped across his lap, Mistress Zaphirah traced idle fingers down his chest, her silken gown slipping scandalously off one shoulder. Her lips, wine-dark and curved in amusement, whispered words meant for no one but him.
