Warm amber light flickered from the bronze brazier, casting soft shadows across the thick woolen carpets and fur-draped cushions of the consultation chamber.
Rich, sweet ribbons of aged spirit-sandalwood smoke curled lazily toward the silk ceiling of the pavilion, shut off from the cold autumn drizzle outside by the invisible "Sound-Severed Void Ward" woven into the canvas walls.
Beside the brazier, Noble Consort Cui Yulan sat on the pile of thick white snow-fox furs, leaning her tall, curvy frame against Alaric Steele's chest.
Her dark hair had come loose from its silver clasp, tumbling in glossy waves over her shoulders. The tears that had soaked her cheeks moments ago were drying in the heat of the fire, though her breathing still hitched every few seconds with the lingering weight of exhaustion and dread over her brother General Cui Hao and the Cui Clan's future.
