Liora was gasping for air by the time her carriage stopped in front of her villa, her breath coming out in sharp, uneven bursts as her chest heaved violently. With her scrambling down the carriage, nearly missing the step as her boots struck stone, she dashed inside her house, skirts gathered roughly in her hands.
It was evening and the sun had set, the last traces of daylight fading from the sky even as shadows stretched long across the grounds. The air was cool, heavy with the scent of night-blooming flowers. Even as her butler and a few servants stood in front of the house to greet her, standing straight and composed as they always did, they might as well have been nothing but air.
