Fifty One
River’s hand lingered at the small of Zaria’s back as he guided her through the arched doorway and into the High Council Hall library. The change in atmosphere was immediate; the hush so deep it felt like the room itself demanded reverence. “I’ll be back in an hour,” River told her, adjusting the fall of his cloak as though he could smooth the weight of the day off his shoulders. “Or so, if the meeting runs over.” His tone softened, and his thumb brushed lightly over her knuckles. “Do enjoy yourself while you’re here. The library has volumes you’ll find nowhere else.” Zaria lifted her chin, trying to look composed despite the swirling hurricane inside her. “An hour,” she repeated, as if tasting the word. Then, half on impulse and half because she wanted to see if he would let her,
- Writer
