The Silent Rivalry
The chamber was bathed in warm golden light. Chandeliers spilled fire like a hundred stars trapped, their glass crystals sending sprinkles of sparks across marble and silk. The air was thick with blended perfumes of sandalwood, rose, lavender, and fresh mogra, each note blending into the next until the room itself had a pulse like a living garden in the dark of night.
Through the high arching windows, a chill gust of night air crept in, bearing the sound of the faint hush of crickets. Curtains rustled, their long material sighing peacefully to the wind. Shadows leaned against the floor in the shape of stretched fingers, but the light from the fire softened them, enveloping the room in comfort and privacy.
