Night of the Blood Covenant I
The queen gently closed her bedroom door behind herself. And the lights dotted around came to life, basking the room in a soft yellow hue, with blues and purples at the corners from glowstones. Finally, a quiet night.
A knock broke the silence. Alasdair stood in the doorway, his cloak still white with snow.
“You came all this way through the snow?”
“The eastern gate is closed. There was no other way in.”
He paused at the threshold, glancing towards the window. Elisif set her book aside.
“Then sit by the fire. Whatever news you carry can wait until you’re warm.”
“I’m afraid it has waited long enough.”
For a moment, only the fire answered. Outside, the city was preparing for the longest night of the year.
Elisif rules the Crown from a city that has learned to endure the winter. To her people, she is a steady presence: the lit window above the square, the familiar figure at the midwinter feast.
Her chambers tell a different story. Books line every wall, plants reach towards the glass, and small curiosities fill the spaces between. Nothing here was chosen to impress a visitor. This is the one place she has made her own.
As the city prepares for the Blood Covenant, news from the eastern gate brings Alasdair to her door. The conversation begins beside the fire, hours before the festivities.