I stood frozen at the window, watching as Alaric issued rapid-fire commands to the guards assembling in the courtyard below. The peaceful winter scene from just hours ago had transformed into a flurry of military preparation. Horses whinnied nervously, armor clanked, and men shouted to one another as they prepared for immediate departure.
My hand instinctively moved to my swollen belly. How quickly our perfect life had shattered with a single royal letter.
"The men will be ready to ride within the hour, Your Grace," Alistair said quietly as he entered the room behind me.
I nodded without turning, unable to tear my eyes from Alaric's commanding figure below. Even from this distance, I could see the transformation in him. His relaxed posture had vanished, replaced by the rigid bearing of a warrior. This was the Duke Thorne the kingdom knew and feared—not my gentle husband who had held me by the fire just moments ago.
