Zavan.
She slept in my bed again.
Not from heat this time, nor from any bond-driven compulsion. She had simply…not left. Somewhere between the meal and the quiet that followed, Iris had curled into the corner of the study chair with my throw blanket and fallen asleep with the ease of someone who had spent every last reserve of energy she possessed.
I carried her to my room because Phantom would have shredded the furniture if I'd left her in the chair. Or that was what I told myself.
In truth, I was selfish, and I had spent two days listening to the bond dim to nearly nothing, unable to do anything but sit and write documents I couldn't read.
She was small in my bed. She was always small, but sleep made her smaller– her defiance softened into something vulnerable, the te
