The mansion was eerily quiet in the aftermath of the violent coup. The grand halls that had once echoed with the sounds of battle were now filled with the low hum of healing magic and the occasional murmur of servants cleaning up the bloodstains. Trevor had personally overseen the immediate medical care for Caroline, ensuring the best healers were at her bedside. She lay unconscious in a private room, her breathing shallow but stable for now, the dark poison still fighting against the healing energy flowing through her veins.
In another wing of the mansion, in a smaller, more intimate sitting room bathed in soft lamplight, two women met again after what felt like an eternity.
