The night was quiet, a heavy stillness cloaking the darkened halls of the packhouse.
Uther paced impatiently in his chamber until the mirror on the far wall shimmered faintly, glowing with the silver light of summoned magic. He straightened, forcing composure, though his stomach twisted.
Cherry stepped through the enchanted reflection, her crimson gown brushing the floor like flowing blood. She carried herself with an ease that made Uther's throat tighten…this was a woman who never feared, who never doubted.
"You called me, my lady," Uther said with a shallow bow.
Cherry's lips curved into something close to a smile, though it never reached her eyes. "Indeed. I thought it fitting to remind you of your place… and of mine."
He shifted uneasily. "What is it you require of me?"
