The silence, rich and full from their dinner, seamlessly transitioned from the pavilion to the small, elegant boat. It was a sleek, dark-wooded craft that moved with a whisper-quiet, magical hum, gliding atop the inky waters of the man-made river. The path it took wove a leisurely course through the heart of the Leclair gardens, offering intimate, moon-drenched views of hidden grottos and fragrant, night-blooming flowers.
Once settled on the cushioned seat, Nero did not hesitate. He drew Khione into his arms, her back against his chest. She came willingly, her body settling against his with a sigh that seemed to release the last vestiges of tension from her frame. He wrapped his arms around her, his chin gently resting on the crown of her head, where her white hair smelled of winter roses and cold, clean air.
