*** Ariana's POV
The corridor outside Ariana’s room felt eerily silent as Cirian stopped at her door. For once, his expression was less predatory and more... calculated. His words during lunch still lingered in her mind, sharp and bitter as the wine she hadn’t touched. He tilted his head slightly, watching her as if trying to decipher her thoughts.
“I trust you found the meal to your liking?” he asked smoothly, his tone deceptively casual.
Ariana crossed her arms, leaning lightly against the doorframe. “It’s strange,” she said, forcing calm into her voice, “to have such a fine meal in a place that’s so drenched in blood.”
Cirian smirked, unbothered. “Ah, but doesn’t blood fertilize the richest soil? Makes everything... thrive.” He stepped back, gesturing toward the door with a flourish. “Rest, my dear. Tonight promises to be enlightening.”
Without waiting for her response, he turned and strode down the hall, leaving Ariana staring after him. Enlightening, he’d said. Everything with hi
