The House of Solace always smelled faintly of women and wine, velvet and spice, but tonight the garden carried something different on its breath.
She noticed it as she passed the tall windows on her way back from the bathhouse, towel twisted above her chest, skin still damp and slick with rose oil. The scent floated in through the slight crack in the pane……earth, wild fur, crushed heather……something animal. Not unfamiliar. Just forgotten.
Jasmine paused, one bare foot over the threshold of her room, and turned.
The gardens stretched beyond the balcony—a riot of night-blooming flowers tangled with creeping vines and the silver wash of moonlight. It was too quiet. No laughter drifting up from the lower halls, no familiar hush of lovers beneath canopies. Only the breeze that moved like a b
