The study doors closed behind them, leaving the tense conversation on the other side.
Marielle walked down the broad marble corridor with slow steps, her skirts rustling softly against the floor. Beside her, Flio maintained his steady, measured pace, his hands folded neatly behind his back as his gaze remained fixed straight ahead.
They walked in silence for a few dozen paces, passing under the tall arched windows that let in the fading gold of the late afternoon sun.
"No wonder you looked like a grieving war wife yesterday," Flio said suddenly, his voice completely flat, without a single trace of inflection. "Watching her husband march off to the front lines, unsure if he'd ever return."
Marielle stopped dead in her tracks, turning her head to shoot him a sharp glare. "Huh?"
