POV: Nyra
She avoided his eyes at breakfast.
Not because she regretted the night before—but because she couldn’t stop reliving every second of it.
His hands.
His mouth.
The way her body still ached in all the best ways.
Kael sat across from her at the long stone table in the Great Hall, his expression unreadable as always. But she felt it—that pull between them. Like a thread tightening with every glance.
A few warriors passed trays down the table. Mira sat beside Torren, murmuring low about border rotations, while Lucan stirred his coffee with the tip of a dagger.
“Good morning, sunshine,” Lucan grinned, not even looking up. “Sleep well? Or… not much sleeping?”
Kael didn’t flinch.
Torren snorted. Mira rolled her eyes.
Nyra just shoved a piece of bread in her mouth, cheeks burni
