The fresh morning air met her like a quiet balm the moment she stepped outside. After Lysander's stern-but-strangely-kind advice, Ilaria found herself wandering the palace grounds with Melyn at her side, the weight of her thoughts shifting with each step.
She was still red-faced from remembering half the things she said to Lysander. The poor Archivist had looked one sigh away from throwing a book at her… gently, of course. She had never seen him like that, and she wondered what would have happened if she provoked a little more.
They passed through the grand hallway, sunlight pouring through tall, glasspaned arches that caught and scattered the morning light like polished crystal. The obsidian pillars gleamed as the pale stone floors warmed beneath the sun. Outside the windows, the sky stretched clear and blue.
