The palace was quieter at night, but it never slept.
I found out around two in the morning, when my body decided rest was a luxury and dragged me up out of a half‑dream of stone corridors and red sigils.
For a moment, I didn’t know where I was.
Not Mara’s narrow bed, springs groaning every time I rolled. Not the dingy little room above the clinic with the leaky radiator. Soft mattress, too‑wide space, faint glow from the warded window.
Palace.
Right.
Beside me, the bed was empty. My son had started the night here, starfished against my side. At some point, he’d migrated.
My wolf pricked her ears.
I swung my legs over the edge, padding barefoot across the cool floor. The suite was dim, lit only by a low lamp in the sitting room.
Mara snored softly from the couch, one hand flung ove
