The lock turned before she was fully awake, scraping through the morning stillness like a warning. Elinora’s heart jumped, a pulse of heat flashing through her chest as if the bond itself had shoved her upright. Light spilled faintly through the high window, pale and cold against the stone walls, but it did nothing to warm her.
Riven stood in the doorway, filling the space before he stepped inside. Dark tunic, black leather bracers, short cloak swaying just past his knees. Damp hair clinging to his neck, the scent of pine, steel, and something faintly metallic riding with him.
“Up,” he said. Simple. Absolute.
She pressed her bare feet to the cold floor, hesitating. “You’re moving me?”
“You’re leaving the North Tower,” he said, already walking toward the corridor. “Follow.”
“Why?” Her
