CHAPTER 116
The door had long since clicked shut behind Marco, the heavy thud of the door serving as the final punctuation mark to their strange, stilted encounter.
Isabella remained perched on the edge of the expansive bed, her fingers still curled into the fine, cool threads of the duvet.
The room had returned to its state of suffocating stillness. She reached out, her hand trembling slightly as she pulled the beautifully woven fruit basket closer.
The wicker creaked under her touch as she began to pull back the delicate mesh covering the gift, her eyes scanning the contents with a mixture of bitterness and curiosity.
There were deep crimson grapes, dusted with a fine bloom of frost; apples so green they looked like emeralds; and berries that seemed to bleed juice at the slightest touch.
It was a masterpiece of natural color, a peace offering from a King who was too afraid to hand it to her himself.
