When Lucas stepped into the chamber, the atmosphere was calmer than before, no longer tense with dread or uncertainty. At the center, reclining slightly against a pile of velvet-cushioned bolsters, Prince Darius looked pale but far more stable than the last time Lucas had seen him.
His once arrogant posture was gone. His shoulders now bore a weight that seemed to sober him. His eyes, once proud and sharp with disdain, now held a different light, one dimmed by pain, perhaps, or maybe reflection.
Lira was seated on a cushioned stool beside the bed, gently adjusting the edge of Darius's robe to make him more comfortable. The moment her eyes caught Lucas, her face lit up with that familiar brightness he had come to appreciate. She stood quickly, brushing invisible dust from her gown as she stepped towards him.
"You're here," she said, voice light but filled with relief. "He's better now... I think the worst is over."
