The whispers followed Elara all the way from the kitchens, a cacophony of nervous energy that matched the frantic pounding of her own heart.
She carried Commander Vaelith's evening meal through the winding stone corridors of the palace, her head lowered, her breath coming in short, shallow gasps.
The tray felt heavier than it should have, not because of the weight of the food, but because the air in the castle had grown thick, charged with an electricity that made her skin prickle.
Perhaps it was fatigue.
The guards outside the commander's chambers stepped aside immediately, their eyes avoiding hers.
One pushed the door open with a heavy thud.
Elara entered.
"My lord, your evening meal.
"No answer.
She frowned, the silence stretching t like a wire.
Usually, his commanding voi
