It was already well past midnight, and the excitement still hadn't died down. The aftermath of Selaphiel's ball was felt all across the city, which hadn't quietened in the slightest.
Manor halls still bustled with movement. Gas lamps flickered from every corridor. Personal messengers dashed across courtyards, delivering hand-penned letters that simply couldn't wait until morning.
Lugh didn't have much to do anyway. He'd already gotten what he came for. Now, he needed to change out of the bloodied robes and maybe get someone to clean the officer's uniform bestowed upon him by Lovainne.
Actually, on second thought, it needed more than just a cleaning.
It needed a miracle.
He wasn't even sure if it could be saved. Between the countless claw marks and entire patches of fabric that had simply been blown away, yeah… now that he really thought about it, that uniform was gone. Long gone.
He would need a new one.
