The fireplace crackled softly at the back of the spacious room, casting warm light on the ancient stone walls of the Ainsworth mansion. Despite the recent destruction in the courtyard, this inner hall remained intact—solid, silent, almost ironic in the face of the chaos that had unfolded minutes before.
Kael sat in the center of the room, in an armchair far too wide for someone who clearly hadn't asked for it.
In front of him, Adalric Ainsworth rested almost indecently in a high-backed chair, a glass of ruby wine swirling slowly between his calloused fingers. The Sword King seemed perfectly comfortable, as if observing this scene was just another rare pleasure in his day.
To Kael's right, Amelia sat too close for any minimally formal standard. One of her arms was around his right arm, her face resting on his shoulder, her eyes closed. The cold aura that had previously frozen half the courtyard was now completely silent, replaced by a restrained, almost possessive warmth.
