It had been a good day.
A normal day.
Too normal.
His birthday feast had gone smoothly and, somehow, his brother had managed not to embarrass him terribly, despite the amount of wine he'd consumed. That should have been a good thing. The day had passed, night had fallen, and in just a few hours it would be a fresh new day and nothing had gone wrong. He should have been thankful, relaxed. After all, what could happen in a couple hours? How much damage could his brother cause on such short notice? Not much, right?
Yet as he retired to his chambers, he couldn't help feeling that the other shoe had yet to drop, and when he opened the door, he half-expected to find some horrific surprise awaiting him. It would have almost been better if there was, for when he arrived to an empty room, the sense of anxiety and impending doom only multiplied.
It was far too suspicious.
He had just let his hair down and was stripping down to his nightclothes when a knock at the door made him jump. With a glance its way, he pulled his shirt back on, squared his shoulders, took a deep breath, and braced himself as he went to answer.
Here we go.
He swung the door open--and then tilted his head in surprise and confusion.
A guard was there and someone else, cloaked head to toe.
Eh?
Looking from the guard to the cloaked figure and back, Ruaidhrí arched an eyebrow. "What's this?"