By the time the bath had cooled and the morning light deepened into gold, Luna and Orpheus finally rose from the water. The warmth still clung to their skin, and the air smelled faintly of lavender and steam. Luna wrapped herself in a white robe embroidered with silver thread, while Orpheus donned a simple dark tunic that brought out the quiet sharpness in his eyes.
They left the bathhouse side by side, their steps unhurried. The estate's halls were silent save for the distant song of birds drifting in from the gardens. The calm that followed their shared morning felt almost sacred — an unspoken harmony that words might have broken.
In the main hall, sunlight poured through tall arched windows, scattering across the polished floors and illuminating a grand chess table carved from black and white marble. It was an old heirloom of Luna's family, one she often used to test her strategic mind against visiting nobles — few of whom dared to challenge her twice.
