Caelen had returned to his cheerful self, at least on the surface. He laughed easily while building towers with blocks, ran around the gardens with a newfound energy, and hugged his parents tightly every night. But there were moments when his gaze wandered toward the front gate, as though he expected Riven or someone worse to appear at any moment.
Elara found herself constantly looking over her shoulder. The gala, the council, the betrayal of the documents—it had left scars. She had trusted Dorian once, only to be blindsided by secrets she didn’t even know existed. And now, even though they had won, doubt gnawed at her. Could she ever truly trust him again?
Dorian seemed to sense her unease. One evening, he found her sitting by the grand piano in the drawing room, her fingers hovering ov
