The scent of incense lingers in the air, mixing with the sweet aroma of wine. Silk drapes flutter softly in the dim glow of lanterns, casting golden light across the king's vast private chamber.
King Rewalt reclines on a mountain of velvet cushions, his tunic half-undone, the glint of sweat on his chest betraying the weight of his recent frustrations. His fingers lazily trace the curve of the woman straddling his lap—one of his favorite concubines, a raven-haired beauty.
She leans into him, her lips trailing across his throat, her voice a soft purr. "Let me take the burden from your mind, my king... Just for a while."
His hand tightens around her hip. "You always know exactly when I need you," he murmurs, voice low, worn with exhaustion. "These damned monsters… endless reports, council squabbles. Even the wine doesn't taste like it used to."
She chuckles, arching her back as her hands slip behind his neck. "Then let me be your escape."
