The morning light of the following day felt oppressive. To the rest of the Capital, it was just another day, but within the walls of the Aldenar Manor, time seemed to have slowed into a thick, agonizing sludge. Verona had woken up before the sun, her ears strained for the sound of boots in the hallway, the low rumble of a familiar voice, or even the scent of cedarwood.
There was nothing.
The dining room was a lonely place once more. When she cornered Rion near the grand staircase, his bow was deep, but his eyes were like flint. "The Lord is occupied with the Ministry of Finance, My Lady. There were discrepancies in the border tax ledgers that required his personal seal. He left before dawn."
An hour later, she crossed paths with Zachren near the carriage house. He didn't even have the grace to look her in the eye, busy adjusting the cinch on a horse's saddle. "His Grace mentioned he'd be back so late you'd likely be in your second dream. Don't wait for him."
