Perfect Features
"She is gone," Henrik observed Maximilian, his countenance inscrutable. "It has been hours."
"She will return," Max answered without even looking at him.
"What are the odds of that?" Henrik furrowed his brow. He looked around Max's study.
The aroma in Max's study bore an uncanny resemblance to the fragrance that lingered around Eve.
"Even without that Wedding, she could depart this place. Do you genuinely believe a mere enchantment can hinder her?" Maximilian lifted his gaze from the documents in his hand and regarded Henrik. "She is destined to become my wife."
"And yet, she has yet to come back. She left, on her wedding day."
"You have existed for over a thousand years, yet your mind remains as muddled as ever," Maximilian stated.
"Unlike you, I tend to employ my intellect. And presently, my mind intimates that she intends to flee."