The corridor was quiet at this hour, the late afternoon sun casting long streaks of amber light through the narrow arched windows that lined the stone walls.
The palace had not fully recovered from the tremors of the morning's revelation, and though servants moved about their duties with practiced discretion, an undercurrent of tension lingered like a faint hum beneath every footstep.
The image of him standing at the balcony rigid, wounded in pride and trust would not leave her mind.
If he would not come to her, then she would go to him then she lifted her hand and knocked.
There was no answer, she hesitated only a moment before pushing the door open.
The chamber was dimmer than usual, curtains drawn partially across the balcony doors, allowing only filtered light to spill across polished stone and dark wood.
Kaelvryn stood near the center of the room, he had removed the ceremonial layers of the day.
