The doors shut behind her, and Lucien exhaled slowly, pressing his palm against the stone wall where she had stood earlier. The scent of her still lingerd faint scent of lavender she smelled like flowers and he has unknowningly grown accustomed to her scent.
That was dangerous, he isn't the type to losss control.
Aria walked the corridors with her head down, footsteps light, heart still unsteady.
She did not allow herself to replay the way his voice had lowered near her ear, or how his presence had filled the room like a storm held back by sheer will.
She focused on the rhythm of her steps, the weight of her apron, the familiar ache in her hands.
Still, her pulse refused to calm.
Closer duties.
That was not a reward. It was not kindness.
It was attention.
And attention in the palace was a blade with two edges.
