The scent of jasmine clung to the hallway long after she had passed.
Roger stood in the corridor’s bend, half-wrapped in darkness, one shoulder braced against cold stone as the torchlight flickered and hissed at his side. The night had turned still... unnaturally so. No guards. No footsteps. Not even the rustle of wind beyond the window’s slits.
Only her.
And the sound of her breath through the crack beneath the door.
He had not meant to follow. Not really. He’d told himself it was coincidence. That he just happened to be walking the northern wing when her scent trailed him like silk on fire. But now he was here... silent, still, and very much aware of the war in his blood.
Inside the room, the air was thick with heat.
Not the kind that came from firelight or furs.
The kind that cur
