Serena had just finished the final page of her book, the words still echoing faintly in her mind as she slowly closed it. She was about to set it down when a soft knock at the door made her pause. The evening shadows stretched long across the room, a sign of the quiet descent into night. It had been a long, exhausting day. Lucian had finally fallen asleep after Marlowe administered another dose of the bitter medicine that had become his daily companion. Serena had taken the chance to slip away to her room for a moment of stillness.
She rose from the bed and opened the door to find Darrell standing there, his face mostly calm, a polite smile perched carefully on his lips.
"Good evening, madam," he greeted with a respectful nod.
"Good evening, Darrell," Serena replied, but her eyes immediately narrowed. That smile—she saw through it. There was a storm behind his eyes, a shadow of worry he couldn't mask. "Is something wrong?"
