The next morning,

Author

Lady Selene's breakfast room was the kind of space that made you forget you were being watched.

Pale gold curtains that filtered light into something forgiving. A table set for two with silverware that caught the morning sun and threw small constellations across the ceiling. Fresh flowers in colors that matched nothing so much as a deliberate choice, the kind of arrangement that said I thought about your comfort before you arrived.

Aria recognized the craftsmanship. She had walked through enough beautiful traps to know one on sight.

This one was not a trap.

That was, somehow, more disorienting.

"You look tired," Selene said, pouring tea...