ELDER NIGHTSHADE’S POV
Dust coated my boots as I stepped into the hall, the council meeting’s echoes—arguments over trade routes, growls over borders—still ringing in my ears, my cloak heavy on my shoulders, the iron doors creaking shut behind me. Torchlight flickered, casting jagged shadows on the stone walls, the air thick with wax and woodsmoke. My eyes caught Freya’s luggage, canvas bags sprawled across the rug, zippers glinting, her lavender scent sharp and lingering, her blonde hair glinting as she sat on a chair, her knees drawn up, her hands twisting a handkerchief, her face pale, eyes red. My chest tightened, my boots scuffing as I crossed to her, the rug muffling my steps, my shadow falling over her, her gaze lifting, wet and wild.
I knelt, my knees creaking, my hand brushing h
