A full week had passed since Damon's dramatic "fall" from his horse.
The busy, chaotic energy of the capital city had settled into a quiet, cool evening. Inside the Benson mansion, the hallways were still. The soft, warm yellow light from the oil lamps flickered gently against the stone walls.
After sharing a quiet dinner downstairs in the dining room, Damon and Camilla walked up the wide staircase together. They did not speak. There was still a very thick, silent tension between them, but it was no longer a hostile war. It was a quiet, awkward understanding.
They entered the master bedroom. The room was warm, lit by a single oil lamp resting on the small wooden table near the window.
