The suite was dim when they entered, lit only by the soft glow along the floor and the faint city light slipping through the tall windows. The air smelled faintly of spice and sandalwood, a clean, grounding scent that always followed Dax wherever he went.
Chris paused just inside the door, waiting for his eyes to adjust. The room was too large for two people, all stone and glass softened by fabric and warmth, a private world carved out of everything the palace wasn't. The hum of the climate control was barely audible, blending with the steady rhythm of Dax's breathing behind him.
"I thought you'd have guards waiting here too," Chris said, half under his breath.
"I don't need them," Dax replied simply, setting the dessert plate down on the low table near the couch. "Besides, they'd stare, and you hate being stared at."
Chris glanced at him, uncertain whether to take that as consideration or arrogance. "You notice too much."
