Elara's eyelashes fluttered. First slowly, then with more urgency as her consciousness began to return. Her head still throbbed dully, a tightness gripped her throat, and her body felt weighted by a strange, unfamiliar heaviness. Cold sweat trickled down her temple.
She was lying on something soft. Leather. Scents.
The cool, metallic cleanliness of the air didn't match a bed - this wasn't home. Not her apartment. And not the floor she'd last stood on.
The next moment, her eyes slowly opened, and from the blur, a familiar face took shape.
Dareth.
His office.
The man sat next to her, almost motionless, elbow resting on the armrest of the chair as if he hadn't moved in hours. His brow was tense, eyes shadowed, his gaze clouded by dark thoughts.
Elara tried to speak, but no sound came.
