Delphinia wandered down the second-floor hallway, her soft slippers making no sound on the thick, carpeted floor. The mansion felt unusually quiet, the kind of silence that left her alone with her thoughts—and the nagging irritation she couldn't shake.
She paused in front of a door, her hand brushing the polished brass handle. The handle was smooth and cold under her fingertips. She'd been contemplating for a while whether she could ask to move to one of these other rooms. Evander's room was spacious and elegant, but it didn't feel like hers. Not yet, anyway. These rooms, though empty, seemed like they could offer her a small space of her own, a place where she didn't have to be constantly reminded of Evander's domineering presence.
As she stood there, debating whether to test the handle, a soft voice interrupted her thoughts.
"Madam? Is there anything you need?"