The morning bled slow and honeyed through the tall windows, smearing gold across the velvet drapes. The House of Solace did not stir as it usually did. The hallways held their breath. Somewhere beneath the perfume and silken air lingered the stale ghost of something howled and half-remembered.
Jasmine stood before the mirror in her room, her fingers resting lightly on the carved wooden edge of the vanity, as if it might steady the tremble beneath her ribs. Her hair spilled around her shoulders like shadows unspooled. She was already dressed in travel clothes... not a gown or a robe, not anything diaphanous. A deep green cloak. High boots. Laced leather that clung to the shape of her thighs. Something she hadn’t worn since before Elora brought her here. Something from before.
The mirror h
