Peace felt strange when it arrived without bruises.
Lila noticed it first in small things—the way the guards outside the Alpha floor no longer stood like men waiting for arrows, the way the kitchen smelled of bread instead of hurried stews, the way even Seren’s footsteps had lost that tight, coiled rhythm of constant battle.
The day after the unbinding dawned bright and unapologetically ordinary.
She woke to sunlight painting the ceiling gold and to Caleb’s hand warm and familiar over the curve of her stomach. The baby stretched lazily beneath his palm, a slow rolling motion that felt more like greeting than demand.
“Good morning,” she whispered to both of them.
Caleb opened one eye. “You’re talking to the tyrant again.”
“They listen better than you,” she said.
He laughed softly and
