Zyren didn't leave the room until he was convinced that Aria had already fallen asleep. The pillow had slipped away to reveal her pale, weary face, her lashes still slightly damp. The steady rhythm of her heartbeat told him all he needed to know. She was asleep. Finally.
Quietly, he rose to his feet, his movements so silent they hardly disturbed the air around him. The fabric of his cloak whispered against the furniture as he moved toward the door. With a soft click, he shut it behind him, the heavy wood muting the room in his absence.
He walked straight to the room beside it—his study. A cold, seldom-used chamber that bore the scent of old parchment and ink, preserved like a tomb. The guards stationed outside bowed sharply, but Zyren didn't spare them a glance. His voice was low and final.
"No one disturbs me."
Then he stepped inside, sealing the door shut behind him.
