The air in Nora's room was fresh now, thanks to the open window and the wind power she'd used to air it out.
The smell of feminine sweat had vanished, replaced by the damp breeze blowing in from outside, carrying the scent of rain and earth.
The room, now tidy, had a cozy feel, with the sheets neatly tucked on the bed and the underwear and tunics stashed out of sight.
Charles stood near the bathroom, the black sword propped on the windowsill where he'd left it to "breathe fresh air," as it had mockingly requested.
Nora, still slightly sweaty from her tidying efforts, stood in front of him, her expression a mix of embarrassment and a strange determination.
Without warning, she began peeling off her tunic.
The wet, torn fabric slid down her shoulders, revealing a black bra that contrasted with her pale skin.
Charles felt his face heat up instantly.
