The sound of rain against the tall windows had become the soundtrack to my imprisonment. For two days, a steady, miserable downpour had kept the estate cloaked in gray. I'd spent most of it in the library, not because I was particularly interested in the history of trade disputes, but because it was the only place that felt vast enough to hold my frustration. Darius had been busy, a whirlwind of meetings and closed-door sessions, and I was left to my own devices, a well-dressed ghost haunting the halls.
On the third day, the rain finally stopped. The sun broke through the clouds, and the world outside my window looked washed clean. I felt a restless energy buzzing under my skin. I couldn't stay inside another minute.
I found Eliot in the small sitting room adjoining our chambers, meticulously polishing a pair of Darius's boots.
"I'm going for a walk," I announced, my voice sharper than I intended.
