Lykaios's POV
I rubbed my temples, the headache throbbing in rhythm with my own pulse. I was tired. Not the kind of tired that a night’s sleep could cure, but a deep, marrow-aching exhaustion that came from living a life constructed entirely of falsehoods.
The heavy doors creaked open, and I didn't need to look up to know who it was. The scent of her perfume, cloying, heavy, and meticulously applied, flooded the room, cutting through the stale air.
Tara.
She didn't wait for an invitation. She swept into the room, her silk skirts swishing aggressively against the floorboards. She stopped in the center of the office, her hands clasped tightly before her, her eyes scanning me with a mixture of resentment and desperation.
"You haven't come to our chambers in three days," she began, her vo
