The carriage slowed to a definitive halt, the heavy iron wheels grinding harshly against the wet gravel. The dead of night had long since consumed the capital, but the oppressive, freezing dark was infinitely better than spending another suffocating second under Cedric's piercing, calculating gaze.
She stepped down from the carriage, each stride heavy, as if the ground itself were trying to pull her down. The bold, scandalous crimson gown clung to her silhouette while Cedric's heavy wool coat still hung over her shoulders like a brand of shame. High above, from the darkened arched window of the estate, Leon stood motionless, a silent sentinel in the dark. He intentionally refrained from stepping downstairs to greet her; they both knew the stakes were too high. Displaying any unwarranted urgency or alignment now would only feed the paranoia of the spies Cedric undoubtedly kept stationed around the perimeter of the property.
