Chapter 405 --405
The heavy velvet curtains kept the morning sun at bay, plunging the room into a deep, dark stillness. Hours had bled away into the morning, and the frantic intensity of the night before had cooled into a profound, heavy silence.
Elara woke up first. Her eyes opened slowly, without a start or a single blink of disorientation. She lay perfectly still, taking stock of her surroundings. The physical weight pressing down on her was immense. To her left, Ken was dead to the world, one of his heavily muscled arms thrown over her stomach, pinning her down like an anchor. Behind her, Mahir was wrapped around her back like a second blanket, his face buried deep into the crook of her neck. His breathing was slow and deep, his beast-kin ears twitching occasionally against her skin in his sleep, while his tail remained loosely curled around her ankle.
For a normal person, waking up completely trapped by two massive men would feel suffocating. For Elara, it was a perfectly acceptable arrangement. The physical heat they radiated was a shield against the chilly morning air of the imperial palace.
She didn’t try to move immediately. Instead, she lay there staring up at the intricate woodwork of the bed canopy. The "filled empty" sensation that usually haunted her quiet moments wasn’t there. Her body felt thoroughly used, a dull, deep ache settling into her muscles, and her mind was remarkably quiet. The internal static—the constant, grinding gears of statecraft, succession lines, and political maneuvering—was entirely gone. There was only the sound of two synchronized heartbeats and the heavy warmth of the bed.
Slowly, testing the boundaries of her cage, Elara shifted her leg.
The slight movement immediately caused Mahir to stir. A low, gravelly rumble vibrated in his chest, a sound that was half-purr, half-complaint. His grip around her waist tightened instinctively, pulling her flush against his chest. His nose nuzzled into the skin of her shoulder, his lips brushing against a faint bruise he had left the night before.
"Don’t move, Master," Mahir muttered, his voice incredibly thick with sleep. His beast ears flattened against his messy, dark hair, shielding out the faint morning light that leaked through the edge of the curtains. "It’s too early."
"It is past ten," Elara replied, her voice flat and entirely level, showing no signs of the morning rasp most people had. "The administrator will be looking for the signed documents by noon."
"Let them look," Ken’s voice chimed in from her other side. He hadn’t opened his eyes yet, but his arm tightened across her midsection, pulling her slightly toward him. A lazy smirk touched his lips. "If Demerti comes knocking, Mahir will throw a shoe at the door. We’re not letting you up yet."
"Demerti looks old enough as it is. If you throw a shoe at him, he might actually retire," Elara countered objectively.