Asher waited for a moment outside his father's study, jaw tight and fists still clenched. He felt like punching the non living hell out of the walls but honestly, he couldn't. He exhaled through his nose, trying to steady himself, when a familiar presence pulled his focus.
His mother, Lady Afina, approached the corridor with her usual quiet grace. Her snow-white hair, long and flowing like freshly fallen silk, shimmered under the golden sconces lining the walls. Her silver eyes locked onto his with immediate concern.
At once, Asher's fury dulled. His expression neutralized, masking the storm that churned beneath. He didn't want to worry her.
Afina stopped in front of him and reached up, gently caressing his face with soft, slender fingers. Her touch had always calmed him, as if her magic wasn't of the arcane, but of the soul.
"I'll talk to him," she said softly, her voice like a lullaby.