Ophelia sat alone on the east balcony of the mansion, always cold, always quiet. Fitting, really, given its name: Winterbraun. Her hands cradled a cup of tea she'd long forgotten to drink, letting it go cold. In the distance, the skies over Aetharion were turning crimson,the sun beginning to dip behind the hills.
Ever since they found that wolf girl from Ael'Vurin, the whole mansion had been buzzing with noise. People were rattled, curious but shaken, thinking the fall of the silver-furred wolf race, said to be half-divine, would throw Winterbraun off balance. Why exactly, Ophelia had no clue.
She'd thought Etien's return, ordered by the Emperor himself, would mean they'd finally get some time together. But that was just wishful thinking. He had too much on his plate. After all, Aetharion had been built from blood and tears, and the Duke wasn't about to let it fall now. Four years of war hadn't even earned her one full day as his fiancée.
