Morning came with a chill that seeped into the stones of the chamber. Alina rose slowly, her body heavy, her mind heavier still. The silence of her room pressed down on her, and for a long while she simply stood at the edge of her bed, staring at the faint shimmer of the Veil that clung to her like an aftertaste.
The memory of what had passed—heat, closeness, the overwhelming tide of power—lingered like a mark burned beneath her skin. No one looking at her now would see it, but she felt it. Every step, every breath reminded her of how thin the line had become between control and surrender.
The knock at her door was curt. Not a summons she could ignore.
She dressed with trembling hands, pulling her robes into place, weaving her hair into some semblance of order. Her reflection in the pol
