The morning light was muted, filtered through the heavy curtains that seemed to swallow the room in shades of gray. I rose from the edge of the bed, stiff and cautious, my muscles still tight from the tension of last night. Even now, hours later, the memory of Damian standing between Selene and me lingered like smoke, searing my mind with its impossible clarity.
I moved silently to the window, drawing back the curtain just enough to peek into the courtyard. Servants bustled about, unaware of the quiet war that had taken place within these walls. And yet, even amidst their mundane routines, I felt the weight of what had shifted. The invisible currents pulling between Damian, Selene, and me had not faded with the night—they had only grown stronger, more insistent.
I clutched the windowsill
