Caspian knew something was off the moment Astra walked in. She was usually all ease and flirtation, her confidence wrapped in silk and seduction. But tonight, she carried herself differently—her posture tense, her movements deliberate but lacking their usual grace. She sat on the edge of the massage table, her hands clasped together, her gaze focused on something unseen.
Caspian poured two glasses of wine, setting one in front of her before taking a sip of his own. “Long day?” he asked, keeping his tone light, as if he didn’t notice the storm brewing behind her carefully placed mask.
Astra let out a slow breath, but she didn’t smile. “You could say that.”
She lifted the glass with a hand that trembled just enough for Caspian to notice, enough for him to feel its motion as a small ear
