The palace kitchens remained at twilight, the dishes clinking and the chatter of the chefs faded to quiet several hours ago. But in the solarium—a glass room filled with moonlight that bathed rose gardens—candlelight sparkled warmly on a table for two. The scent of roasting lamb and sage was hardly present in the air, and crystal glasses waited beside white porcelain plates.
Mark stood beside the table, open collar, restless hands re-adjusting the gear for the third time. He didn't make plans. He wasn't accustomed to this sort of thing. His movements were too practiced, too deliberate—like a pugilist faking something more spontaneous.
Cassie appeared, her simple pale silver dress illuminating candlelight like the first glimmer of morning. She tracked Mark's movements.
"You didn't have
