Lyra's POV
Standing in the dining room, my hands betrayed every attempt at composure. I clasped them together, then released them, only to watch them flutter nervously at my sides. The restless energy coursing through me refused to be contained.
Candlelight danced across the polished oak table, casting warm golden hues over gleaming silverware and crystal glasses. The elegance surrounding me felt foreign, intimidating even. This wasn't my world of refined luxury and careful formalities. Yet instead of feeling diminished, I sensed something electric in the air, as if I stood at the eye of an approaching tempest.
His footsteps announced his presence before I saw him. That measured cadence, purposeful and commanding, carried an unmistakable masculine confidence that made my pulse quicken.
Kaelen.
Every instinct told me to keep my eyes averted, but defiance won. I turned to face him.
