Seraphine's POV
Dawn seeped slowly into the camp, the mingled stench of smoke, blood, and torn earth hanging so thick it felt like something one could breathe in and choke on. Outside, horses snorted restlessly; warriors murmured as they sorted the wounded and the dead. But inside the tent where I lay, another world seemed to linger—one held together only by the blanket around my shoulders and the steady presence beside me.
The bandage at my ribs pulsed with each breath. The blanket shielded me from the cold, but it also served as a barrier—thin, fragile—between what remained of me and everything beyond the canvas walls.
Darius hadn’t left. He sat close, leaning a shoulder lightly against the tent pole, one hand resting on his knee. He didn’t hover, didn’t ask questions, didn’t try to p
