LUCY
The familiar warmth in Tavric's voice reaches me even through the heavy wood, and to my annoyance, my heart responds before my mind does.
A strange wave of relief washes through me. I hadn't realized I wanted to see him until that very moment.
I cross the room before I can overthink it and pull the door open.
Tavric is standing exactly where I'd expected him to be, one hand still half-raised from knocking.
He's changed out of last night's clothes. A dark charcoal tunic hugs his broad frame, sleeves rolled neatly to his forearms, black trousers disappearing into polished boots. His hair is still slightly damp, as though he'd only recently stepped out of a bath himself, a few unruly strands falling over his forehead.
He looks rested.
Or at least, he tries to.
The shadows beneath his eyes betray him. He hadn't slept much either.
