"Mrs. Regent?" Julian called out softly, a loving tease in his voice. "Your Majesty?"
He reached the threshold. He nudged the door open with his foot.
Julian's smile instantly froze.
Lying on the thick, woven rug just inside the spare room was a dark linen shirt.
He recognized it. It was the shirt Mahir wore when he was off-duty.
A cold, heavy stone dropped into the pit of Julian's stomach. His hands began to tremble, the silver tray rattling faintly. He forced his feet to move forward, stepping into the dimly lit room.
It was a trail.
A heavy steel breastplate belonging to Ken had been carelessly discarded near a velvet chair. Next to it were Mahir's trousers. And then, draped over the edge of the low table, was Elara's pristine white silk undershirt.
And then, the auditory processors of his own mind registered the sounds he had been subconsciously ignoring.
