As we returned to our room after dinner, the air between us felt charged. It wasn't just the warmth of the food or the soft, low hum of the village night outside—it was something more personal.
Seraphine walked ahead of me, her steps quiet but sure, the soft glow of the lanterns along the hallway casting long shadows against the walls. I trailed behind her, my mind still tangled in thoughts from the dinner, the queen's confessions, and the future that seemed to loom closer with every passing day.
The room felt warm and familiar as we entered, the soft flicker of a fire in the hearth casting a golden glow across the stone walls.
I watched Seraphine move effortlessly, shedding her formal jacket and letting her long, dark hair spill over her shoulders. Her presence always had a way of grounding me, but tonight, the weight of what we'd discussed at dinner pressed on my chest.
