Chapter 42
Morning crept gently through the aged wooden slats of the inn’s shutters, its golden rays pouring over the interior with a soft glow. A cool breeze filtered through the narrow gap beneath the window, carrying with it the scent of dew-kissed earth and warm bread from the kitchen below. Inside the modest guest room, Lucien lay undisturbed, his tall frame partially swaddled in the white linen sheets. His silver-white hair, tousled from sleep, fanned across the pillow like strands of moonlight. His face was peaceful, boyish even, unmarred by the concerns of the world.
Then, a knock.
It came gently at first, then again with a rhythm that was almost apologetic. The sound reached Lucien’s dreaming mind like the first whisper of dawn. He stirred, slowly. A quiet yawn escaped his lips as he sat up halfway in bed, his back slouched and his legs still tucked beneath the covers. He rubbed his eyes sleepily with the back of one hand, blinking against the brightness as reality returned.
Another knock.
Lucien stood, stretching lazily as the sheets fell away from his chest. The wooden floor was cool beneath his feet. His long white robe, slightly wrinkled from sleep, clung to him loosely. He dragged his feet toward the door, his hair a silver halo of disarray.
He opened the door.
Standing there was Maid Marie, already presentable and neat, her shoulder-length brown hair combed carefully and tucked behind one ear. Her brown eyes, warm and ever-attentive, met Lucien’s sleepy gaze.
"Good morning, young master," she said, her voice as soft as the morning light.
"Mm... morning," Lucien murmured, his voice still hoarse with sleep. He yawned again, covering his mouth with a hand.
Marie smiled and gently bowed her head. "Lets take our breakfast young master. Also there’s a bathing room down the hall if you’d like to wash up first."
Lucien nodded slowly, stretching his arms above his head until his joints popped. "Thank you, Marie."