Dawn filtered through gauzy curtains, thin strands of gold piercing the shadows of Alina’s chambers. Her body still thrummed from the night before—every nerve raw, every thought unsteady. Riven’s touch lingered on her skin like an echo, the taste of Kael woven into her folds, her pulse, her very breath.
Yet beneath that satisfaction burned something deeper: the Veil. It pulsed stronger than it ever had, the mark on her wrist glowing faintly as if alive. It was as though the Veil itself had drawn power from her surrender, drinking in her pleasure and feeding her back a sharper edge of strength.
She curled her fingers against the sheets, staring at the dim light, heart racing. Stronger, but bound. Always bound.
The door creaked, quiet but purposeful.
Kael stood there, broad-shouldered an
