The door shut behind them with a soft click.
Eiravyne barely made it to the edge of her bed before sinking down onto the mattress with a weary sigh.
The ballroom still shimmered behind her eyes—too many voices, too many smiles, and too much pressure to be flawless.
She rubbed at her temples, the golden pins in her hair already discarded onto the nightstand.
When she looked up again, Urag was gone.
She blinked, a little dazed, then exhaled slowly, letting the quiet settle over her shoulders.
She changed quickly, slipping into a silken nightgown of pale lavender that fell softly around her frame, the fabric cool against her skin.
She didn't bother with a robe. He was probably off being Duke-like somewhere. Or had changed his mind. Or—
The door creaked open again.
She startled slightly—then froze.
Urag stepped in without a word, barefoot and bare-chested, wearing only loose, dark linen sleep pants slung low on his hips.
