Dominic sat in his room, the air around him thick with the scent of sweat and tension. Beads of perspiration trickled down his temples, dampening his shirt and sticking uncomfortably to his back.
His breathing was shallow, and the stale air in the room only amplified his discomfort. He was drenched in sweat, his clothes clinging to him like a second skin, and the sticky sensation only irritated him further.
What he craved more than anything at that moment was a long, cool shower to wash away the grime, both physical and mental, that clung to him.
But he couldn't yet bring himself to move.
He hadn't even bothered to return to the outskirts to see Lady Fares. He knew, with absolute certainty, that she would be home—waiting, as always. But something gnawed at him. A strange reluctance. A dull sense of foreboding.
What he wanted now was a cool shower, yes—but even more than that, he needed clarity.
