Aria woke to silence.
Not the layered quiet of Silvercrest, where even at dawn she could hear distant doors slamming, warriors changing shifts, someone shouting orders in the yard. This was thicker. Softer. Like the whole forest was holding its breath.
For a second she didn’t remember where she was.
Rough wooden beams above her instead of stone. The smell of smoke and pine instead of incense and polish. A wool blanket scratchy against her chin. A small square windowletting in a stripe of thin winter light over a simple chest, a chair, her bag in the corner.
Nightfall.
The bond tugged faintly south, as if reminding her that whatever had happened here, part of her was still tied to a male miles away. It hurt. But not with the raw, flayed agony of the last few days. More like a deep brui
