The riverside was a rare sanctuary away from the suffocating grandeur of the manor. The water flowed in a rhythmic, soothing cadence, catching the golden hues of the setting sun and scattering them like crushed jewels across the surface.
The air here smelled of damp earth and wildflowers, a welcome reprieve from the scent of stale incense and heavy perfumes that seemed to cling to the walls of the Duke's estate.
Elian sat on the grassy bank, his back against the rough bark of a willow tree. Lynda was curled up on his lap, her small head resting against his chest, her eyes tracing the dragonflies that darted over the reeds. She was quiet, finally content, her small hand clutching the fabric of his tunic.
"It's peaceful here, isn't it?" Lynda whispered, her voice barely rising above the gentle babble of the river.
