The massive, midnight-blue bedroom was completely dark, save for the pale moonlight filtering through the stained-glass windows. Julian stepped inside, quietly shutting the door behind him.
He looked toward the colossal four-poster bed.
Elara was not sleeping. She was sitting perfectly upright in the exact center of the mattress, her back straight, her hands folded neatly in her lap. She was staring blankly at the far wall, looking entirely like a deactivated machine waiting for a command prompt.
The moment the door clicked, her head snapped toward him, her glass-bead eyes catching the moonlight.
"Prince Consort," Elara stated, her voice quiet in the vast room. "You have breached the forty-eight-hour isolation protocol. We are currently at hour ten."
Julian let out a soft, exasperated breath. He walked across the plush carpet, stopping at the edge of the bed.
