Adela withdrew her hand from beneath her chin as the carriage finally came to a stop inside her father's estate right by the door to the manor.
"The journey has come to an end, My Lady," the coachman declared.
"Thank you."
It was her signal to disembark, and she would have done so already if it weren't for the certainty that opening the door would subject her to the invigorating breeze, which would undoubtedly dispel any lingering traces of her mate from her senses and attire.
Her eyes roved across the lavish interior of the golden carriage one last time.
During the solitary occasion she had been inside the carriage with Egon, his significance had meant little to her. But now that he was absent, a painful void filled her. The juxtaposition of his physical proximity and emotional distance caused immense strain.
But that wasn't the only thing on her mind. Was her father truly the mastermind behind the prolonged rebellion all this time?
