Italy felt unreal.
Golden sunlight spilled over ancient stone streets, laughter drifting through open cafés, the scent of espresso and warm bread clinging to the air. For the first time in weeks, Aria felt like she could breathe.
No councils.
No elders watching her every move.
No power being weighed like a weapon in someone else’s hands.
Just her.
And Dominic and Adrian.
They walked through Florence slowly, fingers brushing hers, as if afraid the moment might shatter if they moved too fast. Dominic pointed out architecture with rare softness in his voice, while Adrian kept glancing at her like he was memorizing her smile—etching it into himself for darker days.
“You look lighter,” Adrian murmured as they paused near the river, the sun painting gold into her hair.
Aria smiled faint
