Arthur stepped through the heavy doors of the packhouse.
The day had dragged on endlessly in the pack office, buried under stacks of reports about border patrols and alliance negotiations.
His muscles ached from the tension, but more than that, his mind buzzed with unresolved thoughts about Emily.
They hadn't exchanged a single word since returning from Eleanor's training session two days before.
She'd seemed so distant, her eyes avoiding his, her body language screaming discomfort.
He'd given her space, figuring she needed time to process whatever storm was brewing inside her.
Now, all he wanted was a quiet meal and his bed. The house was unusually still.
No laughter from the common room, no footsteps echoing down the halls. Arthur paused, his senses sharpening instinctively
