Evan hesitated only a fraction before stepping forward, his movements careful, measured. He approached Anore like one might approach a fragile glass, though his body angled subtly to shield him from Penelope's gaze.
Anore's brows pinched, his lips parting as if to question the sudden shift in the room but Evan's hand touched his elbow lightly, urging him back toward the stairs.
"Come..." Evan said softly, almost under his breath. "Don't linger."
Penelope let out a low, melodic hum, the sound a cross between amusement and hunger. She tilted her head, eyes never leaving Anore as though she were memorizing every angle, every scar, every flicker of hesitation on his face.
"Lessons?" she echoed, her voice slicing into the silence. "What an odd word for something so delicate. Tell me, brother — what could a slave this beautiful possibly need to learn? He already looks like he was made to please."
Her smile widened, dark and knowing.
