Seraphine's POV
First came the sounds. A spear clattered somewhere outside, someone coughed in the hallway, and inside the room a steady, calm breathing matched the rhythm of my own. The bandages around my ribs were tight, my shoulder brace firm—but the pain had dulled into something distant.
I opened my eyes.
Darius sat beside the bed, half-turned toward me, one elbow resting on the mattress as if he’d been frozen mid-movement the moment I stirred. His hair was rumpled, his eyes alert but not tense. Just present. Attentive. Steady.
“You’re here,” he said quietly.
“I’m here,” I answered, my voice rough. Without thinking, my hand moved toward his; his fingers lay close, warm, waiting. I slid my hand between them.
He didn’t pull away. Instead he turned my palm upward and brushed a soft
