đ.đ: New quest
đhe morning sun filtered through pale chiffon curtains, brushing the stone walls with gold.
Elysia sat at her writing desk, a quill poised delicately between her fingers.
Her ladies-in-waiting had already come and gone at her request, leaving behind freshly ground ink, creamy parchment, and a tray of sugared tarts she hadn't touched.
This momentâquiet, still, deceptively simpleâfelt strangely out of place in the ever-complicated whirlwind her life had become.
She dipped the quill into the inkwell and pressed the tip to paper⊠only to pause.
Her gaze drifted, unfocused, as her mind slipped into memory.
It felt like yesterday when she'd awoken in this world, in this body. Disoriented. Terrified. Unsure if she was dreaming or still dead. The heavy canopy bed, the velvet drapes, the foreign ceiling above her. It had all seemed like a dream she hadn't meant to fall into.
And then⊠Benjamin Gaetan.
A grimace pulled at her lips.
