The following day, Kaelan returned to the pack house, his exhaustion evident in the slump of his shoulders and the dirt clinging to his cloak. His horse trotted wearily into the stable, and the guards greeted him with quiet respect.
Liana watched from the balcony, her heart skipping a beat as she saw him dismount. She hurried downstairs, her mind racing with how to regain his attention after the previous night’s indiscretion.
Kaelan entered the main hall, his movements slow and deliberate. A fresh wound on his foot caught Liana’s attention immediately.
“You’re hurt,” she said, rushing to his side.
“It’s nothing,” Kaelan replied, brushing off her concern.
Liana insisted, guiding him to a chair and kneeling to examine the injury. She fetched a basin of water and clean cloths, carefully tending to the wound.
Kaelan watched her silently, his expression unreadable. He appreciated her efforts, but his mind was elsewhere, burdened by the events at the border and the nagging unease that had plagued him since the ceremony.
Liana finished cleaning the wound and looked up at him, her eyes filled with calculated warmth. “You should rest,” she said softly.
Kaelan nodded, his exhaustion overtaking his suspicion.
As he moved toward the bed, Liana seized the opportunity. She slipped into the adjoining room and changed into a delicate silk robe, the oil from the previous night still lingering faintly on her skin.
She stepped into the bedroom, her movements slow and deliberate. “Kaelan,” she murmured, her voice soft and inviting.
He looked at her, his expression blank. “I’m hungry,” he said simply.
Liana’s frustration flared, but she forced a smile. “I’ll get your meal,” she said, hurrying to the kitchen.
By the time she returned, Kaelan was fast asleep, his steady breathing the only sound in the room. Liana stood at the doorway, the tray in her hands feeling heavier with each passing moment.
Her plan had failed again.