Chapter 147: Perfume, Protocol, And A Visit To The Queen
A soft, disappointed sound escaped Seraphielle's husband's throat—low and aching, like a sigh that had hoped to be something else.
"Oh," he said quietly.
He lowered himself back into his seat, wings folding with a muted rustle of feathers. The silver in his eyes dulled just a little, as though someone had turned down the light in them.
"I truly thought," he admitted, rubbing a hand over his face, "that this was it. I thought the Queen was finally calling you to accept your advances."
Seraphielle didn't answer immediately.
She folded the letter carefully, smoothing the black parchment with her fingers before setting it aside. Then she nodded once, slow and resigned.
"I thought so too," she said softly. "I wouldn't have torn it open so eagerly otherwise."
Across the chamber, Velira's little face scrunched up in visible offense.
