The manor had gone unnervingly still after Ashwin left. The faint smell of imperial iris and smoke lingered in the corridors like a low note, a reminder of Victor's presence even before he re-entered the room.
Elias stood by the wardrobe, tugging the zipper of a heavy charcoal jacket up over his chest, still not used to how quickly Victor's "requests" turned into inevitabilities. Warmer clothes. That was the only price for going with him: no arguments, no loopholes, and no ridiculous demands.
He hadn't even had to ask why. Earlier, Victor's voice had been soft but certain: "My ether looks red, but it's cold. When I move us, it will get colder still. Dress for it." Elias had laughed at the time, but now, with the lined collar brushing his jaw and gloves tucked into his pocket, the warning rang louder.
