The Lyselle Manor was unusually quiet. With Gerald and Helena having gone to bed hours ago, the grand estate felt almost too still save for the occasional creak of the old wooden floors and the soft hum of the wind outside.
But in Amara's private lounge, the atmosphere was anything but quiet.
Elara lay sprawled across the oversized velvet couch, one leg draped lazily over Amara's lap as she scrolled through her phone. A bowl of chocolate truffles sat between them, half-devoured, and a collection of half-finished drinks hot cocoa, wine, and something that Amara vaguely recalled Felix calling "a terrible life choice in a bottle" littered the glass coffee table.
"I still can't believe you actually have a designated pajama lounge," Elara said, shaking her head.
