Morning light slanted through the gauzy curtains of the Gilded Lily House, turning the air gold and soft. The high-end courtesan quarters still hummed with the remnants of pleasure and secrets, cloaked in satin sheets and whispered names.
Elandra stepped barefoot across the silk carpets, her robe barely holding on to her shoulders, her every step a dance of ease and allure. She moved toward the man sprawled across her bed, a satisfied grin tugging at his lips. His eyes fluttered open, slowly adjusting to the light before falling on her with languid appreciation.
"Truly, your beauty ought to be outlawed," he murmured, his voice thick with sleep and desire.
Elandra laughed softly, taking a seat beside him. She held a folded parchment in her hands and read it with a pleased smile.
"Lovely are your words, milord," she said, though the letter had not been meant for her. She tucked it neatly into the drawer of her carved vanity, careful as always.