Ashen was on his way to his wife's room when a soft rustle of silk stopped him mid-stride. Breilla emerged from a side alcove, her gown a deep crimson that clung to her curves like spilled blood.
Her eyes gleamed in the torchlight. "My Lord," she breathed, stepping into his path. "I have been waiting. We need to talk… about the medics that can save her."
He halted, jaw tightening. The voice in his head stirred faintly, a silken whisper. "Yeah.. she is the right one." He shook it off, stepping aside. "Not now, Breilla. Lumina is waiting. Tell me tomorrow."
She moved with him, her hand brushing his arm, warm and insistent.
"It can't wait. One wrong word and it's lost. Come to my room just for a moment." Her fingers lingered, tracing a slow circle on his sleeve.
Ashen felt a faint prickling at his wrist where her nail grazed his skin, but he dismissed it as imagination. He pulled away, heart pounding with the need to reach Lumina.
