I had barely stepped through the door of Aby’s office when she shot up from her chair, her eyes twinkling, her curls bouncing as she moved to hug me.
“Aliona!” she exclaimed. Her voice carried that warm, familiar cadence she always used when she was genuinely happy. “Gods, it’s good to see you. You’ve been swallowed whole by that mate of yours.”
“Don’t blame me,” I laughed, hugging her back. “Julian’s schedule is insane.”
“And yours will be too, soon,” she teased. “You’re Luna-to-be. There’s barely time to breathe.”
The room smelled like cinnamon tea and the faint tang of printer ink—a scent I’d come to associate with her. The media department was always busy, but today, the place felt calmer, almost celebratory.
I knew why. They’d made her head of department. I’d heard whispers, and
