Theodora's feet didn't stop. She kept walking back and forth. Up till the door, then back inside the room.
Even her pacing had rhythm…steps that clicked against the polished floor like tiny hammers of impatience.
Her fingers kept intertwining and pulling apart. Her palms were slick with nervous sweat. She wasn't even aware she was biting her lower lips until she tasted the faint tang of blood.
The air in the room felt stifled…thick with the scent of her lavender and gnawing worry.
A half drawn curtain fluttered weakly in the afternoon draft, but it did little to cool her.
She stopped, looked towards the window, and then turned away with a frustrated huff.
Her reflection in the glass caught her eye. She glared at it.
"This should have worked by now," she muttered under her breath. "It should have already worked."
Her fingers pressed into her temples as if trying to force the thought out of her head, but the unease stayed.Clinging to her skin, her breath, her pulse.
