Waking up, I stretched lazily, my neck aching from the weight of the crown on my head. Lately, everything had been a blur. I remembered dining with Lionel last night but had no idea how I'd fallen asleep. Was pregnancy really this exhausting? Sunlight streamed through the sheer curtains, casting dappled patterns on the floor. I rubbed my sore neck as the crown swayed slightly with my movements, emitting faint metallic clinks.
Why are women in this world so miserable? No wonder husbands sneak off to philander. I chuckled self-deprecatingly, my fingers unconsciously tracing the gem on the crown, sensing the energy within. This gem was an Elven Sacred Relic, said to discern true love from lies.
Sighing, I rolled over. The pillow beside me still carried a faint scent of roses, but Lionel was nowhere to be seen. Slowly sitting up, I noticed the lingering traces of his unique ambergris fragrance mixed with a faint hint of blood—a reminder of my bedmate's true nature.
