The next day, the Blackthorne estate was still cloaked in a silence that unsettled Liora. The corridors felt heavier, every whisper of fabric against stone echoing too loudly in her ears. She hadn't slept. She had lain awake, torn between fury at Evelyne's shamelessness and dread of Lucien's coldness, waiting for some sign of what would follow.
But none came.
When she finally gathered the courage to step into the main hall, she found Rowan waiting. He stood near the staircase, arms folded, his sharp gaze softening as it landed on her.
"His Highness asked for you," Rowan said quietly, though his expression betrayed hesitation. "He's in the study."
Liora's throat tightened. She wanted to demand why, why Lucien hadn't summoned her yesterday, why he had stood so still, so impassive, while Evelyne's venom poured over her like boiling water. But the words never formed. Instead, she nodded and made her way to the study.
