Two months had slipped past like water through my fingers. What had once felt like stolen moments in hidden corners of the mansion had become my life—mornings of soft kisses and whispered promises, afternoons lost in the quiet pages of books Varion had chosen for me, nights that always seemed to end with me falling asleep in his arms.
Each day began the same. Lyra would appear with her knowing smile and her small tray, the tonic cup set carefully in front of me. I had grown used to the ritual, to the gentle clink of porcelain, to the reassurance of her steady presence. At first, it had embarrassed me, the quiet acknowledgment of what Varion and I shared. Now it felt like a small secret between women, a bond I hadn’t expected but had come to value.
And Varion… God, Varion. The man who onc
