Elias sat at his desk, fingers steepled as he stared at the documents before him. They were plans—schemes to restore his power, to secure the throne he believed rightfully belonged to his family. The flickering light of the desk lamp illuminated his calculating eyes, the weight of his hunger gnawing at the edges of his focus.

With a sigh, he glanced at the clock on his phone. Nearly an hour past dinnertime. His stomach rumbled irritably. By now, Freya should have laid out dinner. It was her duty, after all.

He rose from his chair, stretching his shoulders as he strode toward the kitchen. The polished floors of the hallway...