The morning sun breaks through the ornate window of your tower room. As is your custom, you've been woken by the sunrise, not by some servant informing you of the beginning of the day. You value your privacy after all. And not just yours.

It's been a week since Alys stepped out of the infirmary for good. She never bothered finding her own quarters in the western wing of the castle. Clearly she knew where she wanted to be, as did you. You were surprised that what had grown between you was a fresh experience for her, who always seemed so worldly, but then your father did not keep you cloistered in your own home for most of your life. She never complained, not on the first night, not now. Despite the dire nature of your duties, her closeness keeps you level, there has not been a moment of torturous self doubt like after Avighon. You are reminded of all this as you stir, and gently take the slender yet muscular arm draped across your chest and place it back at the red haired woman's side. She hums lowly and shifts in the bed.

“Will, is it morning already?” She mumbles.

You rise and move to the basin to wash last night off of you. After you rinse the wet from you, you respond. “Sun's out, Alys. Last I checked, that's morning.”

She huffs. “I'm supposed to be the sarcastic one, dear.”

You shrug, placing the cloth you had just used back on the rack next to the washbasin. “Guess you rubbed off on me after all.” Your mind flashes to nearly every night of the last week, leading into soft laughter. “Guess you were bound to, considering.”

A pillow hits your back with negligible force. “Cad.”

“Layabout. You're supposed to do your class this afternoon, remember? I'm sure you can at least get out of bed for that.” Alys has been doing her own class for the aspirants lately. Leaving spycraft and knifework to her own tutors she puts her encyclopedic knowledge of the Empire and it's peoples to work, giving them a crash course on anywhere they might be sent and exactly what to do to not stand out among the locals. Her classes are in the afternoons while the tutelage of your two hires are in the mornings. Friedrich tells you word among the aspirants is they appreciate the break, even if Alys occasionally complains of some of them falling asleep mid-lecture in abject exhaustion.

She lets out a theatrical sigh but you hear the sheets rustle as she herself emerges from them. Coming to the basin by your side she lands a quick kiss on your cheek before moving on to her own morning ablutions. “Do find something to get involved with, love, much more monotony for you and you're liable to send poor Garn through a window next time he wants you to hold audience.”