The next day dawned with an almost deceptive calm.
That kind of morning that seemed ordinary… but carried an underground, almost electric vibration, as if the air knew something important was about to happen.
Damon, for his part, didn't seem to feel any of that. He walked down the capital's commercial avenue with his usual lazy tranquility, hands in his pockets, indifferent gaze. The only discordant detail was Ester's presence beside him.
Ester, thin, pale, her hair tied in an impeccable bun, walked with the rigid posture and sharp gaze of a noblewoman who secretly judged every fabric in the city. She never showed much—neither emotion nor warmth—and precisely for that reason, when she was irritated, it became even more evident.
And at this moment…
She was very irritated.
"Honestly," she murmured, her voice low but cold, "I don't know how you've survived until now."
"Hm?" Damon raised an eyebrow.
