Without hesitation, he pushed it ajar and stepped inside.
The chamber was warm, lit by the glow of a fire in the hearth and the soft gleam of candles. The scent of lavender hung faintly in the air.
His eyes scanned the chamber quickly until they found her—Cleora—seated before her dressing table.
She had changed out of her formal garments into a softer gown of pale silk, one that caught the light like water. Her long hair, usually bound in intricate pins and ornaments, now cascaded in waves over her shoulders, free and untamed. Her delicate hands moved with care as she unclasped the jewelry from her ears and neck, setting each piece down upon the polished wood.
He moved toward her, slowly, until he stood behind her chair.
Cleora's eyes caught his in the mirror, and at once her lips curved into a small smile.
"Oh, you are here," she said softly, her voice both surprised and pleased.
But then her brows knit. "Wait… how are you here? Where is Raelyn?"
