The scent of sulfur and ash had finally faded from the Royal Bedchamber, replaced by the sharp, clean aroma of wintergreen and freshly brewed black coffee.
Kaia sat at the vanity, watching Aeron through the mirror.
He was standing in the center of the room, dressing for his official report to the Emperor. The exhausted, filthy, desperate man who had fallen into her bed hours ago was gone. In his place stood the Commander of the Imperial Armies. He wore a high-collared tunic of midnight blue, heavily adorned with the silver medals of his military rank.
He was strapping on his sword belt with a ruthless, practiced efficiency.
"You look like you are going to an execution rather than a debriefing," Kaia noted, turning to face him. She was already dressed in a gown of stiff, unforgiving silver silk—the color of House Taryn, tailored to look like elegant armor.
