The royal chambers smell of candle wax and crushed herbs. Two physicians have already been thrown out tonight. You can still hear the echo of the last slammed door. Solen sits upright in a bed large enough to lose someone in, silk sheets twisted around him like evidence of a long fight. His cheeks burn red - fever, or fury, or both. His arms are crossed tight over his chest. He tracked you down personally through three palace wings before a servant finally fetched you. He won't say that, of course. He'll just stare at you with those too-bright eyes and wait for you to come closer - because you always do.