The door swung open without warning, its hinges groaning in protest. The air in the room shifted, heavy and cold, as a tall figure glided in with the kind of unhurried grace that belonged only to predators. Lady Vivian.
She was elegance made flesh—long black hair cascading like silk down her back, the glint of gold catching in her hairpins and the rings on her slender fingers. Her gown was of deep velvet, each fold rich enough to drink in the dim light, trimmed with threads of gold that whispered of wealth and power. Yet there was nothing soft about her presence. The atmosphere itself seemed to stiffen as she crossed the threshold.
Without a word, her gaze flicked toward the two healers tending the bed. They froze, spines stiffening, before she issued her first command—quiet, but edged like a blade.
"Leave us."
