Damian sat on the sofa beside the window, a cigar burning between his fingers as thin trails of smoke drifted toward the ceiling. The room was illuminated by several golden chandeliers, their warm light reflecting off the polished furniture and the dark marble floor.
Outside, the Imperial Capital had settled into the quiet of night, though the occasional movement of guards beneath the windows reminded him that the city never truly slept.
Elsa lay across the bed with her legs stretched beneath the covers, watching him intently. She had been observing him for several minutes, waiting for him to put aside the troubled expression he had worn since returning from the council.
"So do you think the princes will vote in your favour?" she finally asked.
