I toe off my heels with a sigh and move through the marble-floored sanctuary I carved out of ash and ambition. Each step echoes slightly in the hush—sharp, then fading. Elara pads beside me, her paws soft and deliberate, her ears alert. She doesn't relax even here. I don't either.
The chandeliers are dimmed, casting soft shadows across velvet furniture and glass tables that hold more secrets than books. From down the hall, Lily's laughter trickles through the air, light and infectious, like wind chimes on a ghost's breath. I follow it with aching softness in my chest.
But first—I have to peel the night off me.
I step into my private dressing room and shut the mirrored doors. The silence inside feels heavier. Intimate. Sacred.
