The next morning, I woke up alone.
The space beside me in the bed was cold, a hollow dip in the mattress where he'd been. For a moment, I just lay there, staring at the empty space, a strange feeling settling in my gut. It wasn't relief. It was something else, something I didn't want to name. I pushed it down and sat up, the sheets pooling around my waist.
Eliot came in while I was still trying to decide whether to get up or pull the covers back over my head. He carried a tray with a steaming pot of coffee and a plate of eggs, which he placed on the table by the window.
"Good morning, my lord," he said, his voice as calm and neutral as ever.
"Is it?" I muttered, running a hand through my hair. "It feels a lot like the last one."
"The sun is shining," he said, as if that settled the matter. "His Grace asked me to remind you that the library is open to you. He thought you might appreciate the change of scenery."
