Merisset lay on the edge of her bed, exhaustion weighing on her body, an ache already throbbing in her mind.
The silk sheets of her bed were cool against her skin but they were barely able to soothe that ache or the firestorm brewing inside of her.
With a heavy breath, she gazed up at the ceiling of the grand room around her, with its carved wooden walls and velvet drapes. Usually this was her resting place, but for now, after everything, it felt suffocating.
Crystal chandeliers hung like frozen stars above, casting pale light that flickered in the draft seeping through the large, arched windows. It was a fine room—luxurious, even—but tonight it felt as hollow as she did.
And a personal mansion in the Oldracken primary estates wasn't truly what she needed at the moment.
Merisset couldn't stop seeing him.
Spheris Arnadel, standing amidst the chaos that Belmiroth had caused. He was unmoved, unafraid, untouched.
