The lounging room was quiet, sun-drenched, and soft around the edges, its ivory walls muted to honey in the afternoon light. Long sheer curtains stirred faintly against the breeze filtering through the tall windows, casting faint, shifting patterns on the polished floor, shadows shaped like leaves, like lullabies.
Trevor was stretched out on the long settee near the window, one arm propped along the cushion, the other resting loosely around the cool glass of something amber and sharp. A tablet balanced on his thigh, open to reports laced with red-flagged names and court whispers, but his attention kept drifting.
