Within the week, Kel was up and about, only one clue closer to the truth of Barclay's death.
It wasn't the emperor's fault.
That single sentence brought a great amount of relief to Kel, possibly too much considering it was the only thing she knew for certain.
As she pondered over the bizarre-yet-pleasant sensation, she found herself yearning to see the dark-haired man in question.
She missed his bewitching gaze.
His handsome face.
His voice.
His touch.
... Wait, his touch?
Kel flinched at her odd thoughts. Perhaps the sinfully carnal dream, its remnants still haunting her sleep, had something to do with it.
Slowly, she reached her fingers toward her face, delicately placing them on her lips. If she closed her eyes, she could still feel the emperor's kiss there--first breathlessly cool and then fiery hot.
"Lucy…" she ventured, turning toward the maid busy dusting the mantle on the other side of the room.
