Jania had just finished her report—the one Master Lyle had personally assigned to her. Truthfully, she hadn't brought back much. Barely enough to qualify as "useful," especially by his standards.
Since she'd stepped into the study, he hadn't said a word about her findings. Instead, Lyle had been quietly thumbing through the photographs spread across his desk—each one a frozen moment from their vacation.
Sometimes, his expression softened; sometimes, a faint smile ghosted across his lips. Other times, the look in his eyes turned unreadable—something between longing and restraint—as he studied each image of Ephyra.
Ephyra laughing at something off-camera.
Ephyra squinting into the sun, wind tangling her hair.
Ephyra with him—caught mid-laughter, her hand in his.
