The morning mist still clung to the earth as Isadora stepped out of the carriage, her hands trembling against the folds of her cloak. D'Aragon Hall loomed ahead, its proud, ancient walls catching the pale sunlight. For the first time in days, she wasn't sneaking in or slipping past servants — she had come openly, called by the message that had turned her restless heart inside out.
His vision… It's back.
The words Evelyn had scribbled onto parchment felt like a prayer answered.
Isadora's steps quickened through the grand hallways. The guards she passed dipped their heads in greeting, but she barely noticed. Her pulse pounded in her ears, her throat tightening with every step toward Lucien's study.
She pushed open the door.
There he was — standing by the window, his back to her, one hand resting on the sill. His shoulders no longer hunched, his head lifted, eyes turned toward the light spilling in through the glass. The sun caught the edges of his dark hair and sharp profile.
