A Treasure Worth Taking

The intendant stepped back with practiced grace, his expression unreadable as he shut the door behind Arthur. The soft click of the lock echoed in the chamber, sealing him within.

Arthur exhaled slowly, forcing himself to keep his composure. He had met Lady Zephyra before, spoken with her, and negotiated with her.

Yet tonight, under this dim, intimate lighting, she looked entirely different.

She stood near the Whisperer, adjusting her posture in quiet confidence, her head tilting ever so slightly as if studying him in return.

Her attire was something his prude mind had too rarely encountered, if it could even be called attire. It was too light, too sheer to be considered a nightgown, clinging to her in ways that left far too little to the imagination.

The fabric shimmered faintly, reflecting the subdued glow of the lanterns, shifting like the rolling waves of the sea itself.