The grand residence was asleep. A deep, heavy silence had fallen over the sprawling corridors, the kind of quiet that only comes in the darkest hours of the night. But in the hallway leading to the master bedroom, a soft, solitary light moved. Delia, dressed in a simple white nightgown, her hair unbound and falling over her shoulders, walked with a quiet, determined purpose.
A maid followed a few steps behind her, her own footsteps nearly silent on the thick carpet. As they reached the large oak doors of Eric's room, Delia turned.
"Is everything I asked for ready?" she asked, her voice a low whisper.
"Yes, Your Grace," the maid replied, her own voice hushed in the solemn quiet. "A basin of warm water, the fragrant oils you requested, fresh towels and linens, and the doctor's prescribed medicine are all by the bedside."
"Good. Thank you," Delia said. "That will be all for now. If I need anything, I'll let you know. You can go and get some rest."
