Elara lingered a moment longer at the balustrade, her eyes tracing the last threads of sunlight stretching over the gardens. The warmth had almost vanished, leaving behind the quiet chill that always settled before evening study hours. She should have gone back already, but her mind refused to still.
Lucavion and the princess—two names that shouldn't belong in the same thought, yet now they did.
She turned away, her steps slow, the click of her boots muted by the marble floor. Her reflection trailed her in the tall windows that lined the hall—pale face, thoughtful eyes, a composure too carefully maintained.
What is it with Princess Lucavion? The question clung to her tongue like iron.
The corridor outside the terrace was empty, bathed in that half-light between day and night. Each step echoed faintly as she made her way back toward the dormitories, but her mind remained in that other hallway—the one where pride and cruelty had bled together.
