A New Harmony
The gentle buzz of morning had dissipated into sunlight streaming in through stained-glass windows, casting gold shapes across the highly polished marble floor of the manor.
Descending the grand staircase from its top, Leon started his way down—not as the man just thrown out of his room, but as the Duke of Moonstone.
Gone were the loose comfort of bedclothes. Instead, he now donned his formal robe—midnight black with tasteful gold trim that shone in the light as he walked. The high collar set off his commanding stance, and fitted cuffs sparkled at his wrists. Each step made quiet authority sound. Each fold of his cloth whispered prestige.
He seemed kingly. Cutting. A man of rank.
But beneath those piercing eyes, something wasn't quite right. He wore a faraway look, an unreadable expression—eyes lost to thought, as if shouldering the burden of what wasn't said seemed. wrong.
