Urag dismissed the maids with a flick of his fingers and a quiet, commanding murmur. "Not yet. She's resting."
They bowed without protest, disappearing down the corridor with practiced silence.
He didn't move from the doorway.
Instead, he lingered—bare chest shadowed by the frame, one hand braced above his head, as if reluctant to cross the threshold between this room and the rest of the world.
His eyes were fixed on her, unreadable and intense.
Eiravyne sat curled in the sheets, watching him.
"You look like trouble," he said softly, a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. "And I would gladly spend an eternity trapped in your bed if it meant waking up to that face."
Then he exhaled and pushed away from the door with a lazy stretch. "I should go clean up. I have a meeting, and I smell like wine and you."
He grinned at her flushed expression, then added with a wink, "Don't eat without me."
And just like that, he was gone.
The door shut gently behind him.
