Morning Light in the Courtyard
Once he finished washing, Julian D'Aurelius pulled on a close-fitting grayish-black shirt and precise black pants. Cloth followed his slender shape without fuss - plain, yet sharp. His fingers combed through dark hair while sleepy gold eyes blinked slowly, lingering fatigue in their glow, before he left the bedroom behind.
Faint light crept across the floor, hushing every footstep. Silence hung thick where voices had been.
There stood Amara Ravenswood, back pressed to the wall close by.
