Verania Thorne had always believed that peace and quiet were vastly overrated. Life was dreadfully boring without a healthy dose of chaos, a sprinkle of madness, and perhaps the occasional explosion. But as she sat quietly in the sunlit royal study, reading reports without interruption or disaster, she was forced to reconsider.
She shifted irritably in her chair, glaring down at the perfectly ordered piles of documents awaiting her signature. Behind her desk, Sylvithra stood examining a map, her silver hair shimmering in the morning sunlight, effortlessly graceful as always.
Sylvithra had already approved four treaties, three building permits, and a tedious trade negotiation with an efficiency Verania found borderline offensive.
"Sylvithra," Verania finally complained, dramatically slamming down a report she'd barely skimmed, "isn't it terribly quiet today?"
Sylvithra raised an elegant eyebrow, casting her wife a mildly amused glance. "You mean peaceful?"
