“Forgiveness.” A black-gloved hand darted to her waist to steady her, the other catching the edge of her tray before it tipped and the contents went crashing to the floor. “I didn’t mean to startle you.” A voice, lovely and deep as velvet midnight, speaking to her in near-perfect Elantian. Lan blinked as she was set back on her feet, the tray returned to her hands. Her rescuer stepped back quickly, lightly, like a retreating shadow, and it was then that she caught sight of his face.
