The candles igniting of their own accord upon entering their room was something she had oddly missed, and quite a lot at that.
The canvas that Silas had been working on still lay there against the desk. His carving tools and every other sculpture he ever finished greeted them like nothing had happened. Not a speck of dust had settled over the wood or the furniture either.
Persephone must have had the room enchanted just like the legacy and trophy room to remain clean. It was as though they had never left.
The young woman stood by the door even after her husband moved past her.
Was it cold or not? Her nerve endings failed to tell the difference. Her memories in that space beckoned her to reach for them but… They held themselves so far that her arms couldn't touch them for all they tried, pushed to the side by more recent memories and feelings.
"Should I run a bath?" Silas' voice ripped her attention out of the deep crevices of her mind.
"Yes, please," she answered quickly.
