Evening settled quietly over the stone palace, warm amber light spilling from carved lanterns that lined the hallway.
The air smelled faintly of herbs, broth, and the cool breeze drifting in from the open courtyard. After the ritual, Shelia had been carried back to her room, placed gently on the freshly laid bedding that Ophelia had straightened at least six times out of nervous habit.
Isabella sat beside the bed now, one leg crossed over the other, tapping her fingers lightly on her knee. Her eyes softened every time she looked at Shelia's resting face. Her friend looked peaceful. More than peaceful. Beautiful.
"She looks like a sleeping fairy now," Isabella murmured to herself, her voice filled with a tired pride that warmed the room. "My work is elite. Honestly, I should open a clinic."
Glimora, who had flopped dramatically across a nearby rug, lifted her tail lazily and swished it once. Isabella reached over and rubbed the little beast's stomach with absent affection.
