They spent hours at The Cloisters. If not for the spa session they had scheduled—and the weariness that had finally crept into Ephyra's bones after a full day of walking—they might have stayed until the sun dipped below the Hudson.
Lyle had to let her lean against him as they made their way to the wellness suite. Its softly lit corridors carried the scent of eucalyptus and lavender, each step into the space like a descent into some hushed, luxurious underworld.
The staff and the head of the wellness suite greeted them with warm, practiced smiles. The head therapist—a tall woman with salt-gray braids and a crisp linen tunic—bowed slightly to Lyle before speaking.
