But here, in this sunlight room, the only danger present were her own mistrusting thoughts.
The morning sun streamed through the window above the kitchen sink, casting golden beams that danced across the wooden floor. Tavia blinked against the warm sunlight and stretched, realizing she had fallen asleep on the couch. The cushionbeneath her was still indented from where her head had rested, its fabric slightly scratchy against her skin.
Lucius stood in the kitchen, chopping some type of vegetable.
“Is my dove hungry for a little breakfast?” he asked, his voice smooth and velvety, carrying effortlessly over the gentle clatter of his work.
A sweet, earthy aroma of freshly baked bread mingled with the sharp scent of chopped herbs, filling the air with a comforting warmth.
She yawned and stretched again, the cozy blanket slipping from her shoulders as she folded it neatly. “Sorry, I must have fallen asleep while we were talking.”
“No worries. You’re not the first person to be bored by my art collection,” he teased, his tone light and playful.
He glanced over his shoulder, a flicker of amusement dancing in his emerald eyes.
“Tea?” he asked, the word carrying a warmth as inviting as the sunlit kitchen.
She nodded, stretching once more as she rose. Herstiff and slightly crinkled leathers from a night of wear felt constrictive, so she decided to change.
“I’ll be right back,” she said as Lucius set the kettle on the stove, the faint hiss of flame flaring to life beneath it.
Today, they would go over the plan.
Tomorrow was the masquerade.
The weight of the unknown hung heavy in her chest. She knew nothing about where they were going, who would be there, or how she was supposed to break into a vault. The faint tick of the clock on the wall seemed to echo her unease.
Why hadn’t he told her anything yet?
In the corner of the room, boxes were stacked haphazardly, one tied with a large black bow that seemed to whisper secrets she wasn’t yet allowed to know.
Unable to resist, she opened another box. Her fingers brushed against the soft fabric of a beautiful white dress. She pulled it out carefully. The material was light and smooth, with delicate ivy embroidery trailing along the sleeves and hem like creeping vines.
Beneath the gown were a petal pink set of silk undergarments and long white socks embroidered with the same delicate flowers.
How much had he spent on her?
Before she wanted to think of why, she took the expensive garments and began dressing.
The dress was tied at the back but slipped on easily. She let the cool, silken fabric cascade over her skin, shedding the weight of her stiff leathers.
Standing before the mirror, she twirled. The dress flared gently around her legs, catching the sunlight, and shimmering faintly. It fit her perfectly—of course it did. Lucius treated everything like an art form, including her.
When she returned to the kitchen, steeping tea greeted her, mingling with the warm aroma of butter melting over freshly sliced bread. She sat at the table, where Lucius had already placed a mug of tea and a plate with a thick slice of bread accompanied by cheese.
“Did you bake this?” she asked, inhaling the rich, yeasty aroma.
“Would you be surprised?” he replied with a faint smirk.
“Yes, actually.”
He settled into the chair across from her, his movements fluid and deliberate. She noticed he wasn’t eating.
“You don’t eat anything any more?” she asked, taking a bite of the bread. Its soft, warm texture melted against her tongue, the butter adding a decadent richness.
Lucius leaned back in his chair, his navy vest hugging his frame. The crisp white shirt beneath it complemented the dark navy outfit, and the emerald-green ring on his finger caught the sunlight, glowing faintly.
“Sadly, everything has lost its taste,” he said, his voice tinged with a quiet bitterness.
