Aveloria pushed the door to her chamber open and stepped inside, letting it shut behind her with a quiet click. The room was dim, lit only by the low glow of the wall lamps. She barely had time to take another step before she noticed Theron.
He was pacing back and forth across the chamber, his hands clasped behind his back, his boots striking the floor in an uneven rhythm. The moment he sensed her presence, he stopped mid-step and turned toward her. His sharp gaze softened the instant he saw her face.
"You look worn out," he said plainly.
Aveloria exhaled, the kind of breath that came from deep in her chest, the type that carried the weight of the entire day. She nodded once and walked farther into the room.
"I feel worn out."
Theron crossed the distance between them but didn't touch her yet. "How did it go with moving the king?" he asked.
"It went well," she replied. "He's in the temple now. The cleansing ritual has already begun."
