Chapter 233: Presence
"She’s finally asleep," a familiar voice says from the doorway, wrapping me in the warmth of its presence. Thorne.
"Your eyes are swollen," he murmurs as he steps inside and sits beside me on the bed. His thumb gently brushes beneath my left eye, the warmth of his touch soothing the raw, tender skin.
"I’ll apply some ointment later to bring down the swelling," I reply, my voice soft and exhausted.
"Eventful day, huh?" he says, cupping my cheek with his hand. I lean into the warmth of his palm, finding comfort in the simple gesture.
"Yeah," I exhale. "You owe Leona a raise. Apparently, finding her was nearly impossible. She never expected anyone to track her down."
He chuckles softly, the sound deep and familiar. "Well, she is the best at what she does. Even I don’t know how she manages it."
The conversation drifts into an easy, familiar silence. The fire crackles gently in the hearth, casting flickering shadows across the walls. His thumb moves in slow, soothing circles along my jawline, grounding me as the weight of the day settles more deeply into my bones.
The warmth and comfort should help me relax, but instead, an old bitterness rises to the surface.
"I hate them," I say abruptly, the words sharp and cold against the softness of the moment.
Thorne’s thumb stills. His eyes flick toward mine, filled with quiet patience. He doesn’t press for more; he never does. He simply waits.
"I hate them," I say suddenly, the words sharp and unfiltered as they cut through the quiet of the room. "The king. Duke Veyron."