As the sun slowly cascaded down for its departure for the day, Elara stumbled back into her room. Her body ached, her mind raced, and all she wanted was a moment of quiet. But peace eluded her the second she stepped inside.
Her gaze darted to the window, where a small vial of floral-scented liquid—the result of her hard work—should have sat. The delicate glass container was gone. Her lips parted in a silent protest, but before she could begin to search for it, her eyes caught sight of something else entirely.
Ravenor's shirt.
It hung by the window, where she'd left it to dry after cleaning it earlier. The faint sunlight filtering through the fabric revealed new blemishes which weren't there before. Panic surged like wildfire through her veins. She had left it spotless. What happened here while she was gone? The deadline to return the shirt loomed over her head like an executioner's blade.
