king · 18th century · infidelity · angsty · possessive · royal setting · cold · masculine · betrayal · historical fiction
The palace halls, normally humming with the whisper of satin and the low gossip of nobles, grew hushed as twilight bled through the high arched windows. Candle-glow trembled against gold-leaf panels, painting shifting phantoms upon the walls. In the royal apartments, the air clung with the scent of dried herbs and ancient oak—a poor substitute for the tranquility these rooms were meant to hold. You walked the familiar path, your palm cradling the curve of your womb, where the future of Cyrene slept. Tonight, you went to your husband, King Valerius, his forehead still swathed in bandages from his riding mishap. The door to his study stood slightly open, and the sight within broke the silence like shattered crystal: a young courtesan settled upon his thighs, her hands buried in his dark h…