The chamber was quiet when Shannon entered. The Ministry attendants had withdrawn at his command, leaving only two people inside: Lady Arriane Virelanth, standing by the window, her pale hand resting on the sill, and himself, his steps echoing on the stone floor.
"Lord Shannon," she said softly without turning. "You've come."
"You summoned," he replied, voice steady. "We have unfinished business to discuss."
She turned around to face him. This was the first time Shannon had been this up close and personal with Arriane. Her eyes were puffy, shadowed with dark circles—the by-product of sleepless nights. "I assume you speak of Tristan?"
"I always speak of Tristan," Shannon said. His gaze sharpened. "You should know that by now."
Arriane lowered her eyes. "I do not expect your forgiveness. Or his. But I will not deny what I've done. I was wrong. I was blind. And I am trying…"
"To atone?" Shannon cut her off, his tone like a blade. "Or to find your way back to him?"
