The moon hung low and swollen, its reddish hue casting the room in a soft, intimate glow. Outside, winter whispered against the windowpanes, wind curling through the eaves and rattling the iron latches. Inside, the air was warmer, scented faintly of rosewood and wax polish from the mansion's lamplit halls.
"Miss Paige says to take care of yourself, my lady," Halle murmured as the door clicked closed behind her. The soft sound lingered like a bell tolling in the distance.
I turned my head, catching her reflection in the moonlight as she approached. She moved with the ease of someone entirely at home in the shadows, yet aware of every breath, every beat of the room's quiet pulse.
"I see," I murmured, my gaze tracing the window frame where the moon poured its light across the bed. Its glow kissed the folds of the blankets and illuminated her hands, elegant and patient, as they rested near me.
I let my head sink into her lap. "How are the girls?" I asked, voice low, careful, as if speaking too loudly would shatter the fragile intimacy of the moment.
Halle smiled faintly, her fingers drifting through my hair. "I showed them to their room. They insisted on sharing, so that is what they did."
I exhaled slowly, feeling the tension of the day begin to unwind from my shoulders. "Hmm. We should rest… tomorrow's meeting is important." My words were soft, almost a suggestion, almost a plea.
Halle paused her hand, stilling it for a moment as she considered me. "You are right. There is a meeting with the representatives from the West. It would do you well to sleep early."
I tilted my head, watching the moonlight slide across her red eyes. "We could stay up a little… just a little?" I whispered, hoping she might indulge me.
She shook her head gently, her fingers resuming their path through my hair. "No, you are quite the sleeper, my lady. Rest will serve you far more than conversation."
The room fell into a hushed rhythm. Winter whispered outside; the wind pressed against the glass with soft insistence. My heart thumped faintly in reply, a quiet percussion to the moon's glow.
"Do you think the Capital will intervene… about the war?" I asked, my words tentative, laden with curiosity and worry. Though I worked to mask my feelings, they refused to vanish entirely, pressing against my chest like cold iron.
Halle's hand paused for only a heartbeat, then continued its slow, careful motion. "From what I've gathered, the conflict stemmed from a political assassination."
I tilted my head, scepticism folding my brow. "Do you think someone truly attempted such a thing?"
"It is not beyond the realm of possibility," she said carefully. "But the fact that no one seems to have survived raises questions…" Her fingers braided a stray lock of my hair absentmindedly, knotting and unknotting in a slow, methodical rhythm.
"And the Prime Minister?" I prompted. "Has there been any word?"
"The Capital remains quiet," she said softly, continuing her gentle motions. "No word on the ongoing battle, and… nothing regarding the disappearance of one of the ambassador's team. No acknowledgment, no action."
I swallowed, feeling the weight of her words press against the edge of my consciousness. "Nothing has been done. Politics… I've never had a taste for it. Yet I cannot sit idly. I have colleagues in that region…" My words faltered, trailing into the calm of her hand on my head. "Do you think… the Princess and her friend might do anything?"
Halle's fingers lingered at my temple, her touch grounding. "I am certain everything will be alright, my lady. Times are shifting. Change is coming, whether we are ready or not."
Her voice softened, a quiet reassurance. "And though they may dislike the Fox and the Cat, I am certain they would prefer them to claim their lands over the Draken Annex. They have pride, as a nation does—or I pray they do."
I felt my eyes grow heavy, the pull of sleep irresistible under the gentle rhythm of her touch. The room seemed to grow warmer, the winter wind outside dulled by the walls of the mansion and by the presence of someone steady, someone reliable.
"Sweet dreams, my lady," Halle murmured, leaning down. Her red eyes caught the moonlight, glinting faintly like distant rubies. She pressed a soft kiss to my temple, a fleeting seal upon the night's quiet intimacy.
Letting the warmth wash over her, the lingering tension of war, politics, and responsibility receding into shadows. Outside, the winter gossiped and the moon bled its red into the night sky. Inside, Lakshmi finally allowed herself to drift, wrapped in the strange security of the moment — in the quiet intimacy of a single touch, a single word, a single promise that the world outside might wait just a little longer even though its hands needed to change.