THIRD PERSON'S POINT OF VIEW
Aello fell face—first onto the bed in the room Sebastian had shown her earlier, his hands setting down her bags before leaving her be. The mattress yielded under her weight, plush and soft enough that she sank into it, her muscles unspooling after the long flight.
The space was simple-about the same size as her room in Russia-but filled with touches that felt lived-in. She marveled at the ceiling, which looked like polished glass, casting a faint reflection of her prone form as she lay still.
Her mind spun with all that had happened. Sebastian had offered no explanations, only said Psikh would fill her in when he arrived. So she'd kept quiet through dinner with the older woman, who'd taken her silence in stride and sent her upstairs to rest, saying travel must have worn her thin.
Aello pressed her palm to her chest, feeling the steady beat of her heart beneath her skin. "Wife...?" She whispered to the reflection above her. "Can I really be his wife?"
