The fire in Ryker’s study had burned low, casting the room in a moody, flickering glow. He stood by the window, one arm braced against the frame, jaw tense, gaze fixed on the gardens.
He hadn’t seen Jenna in two days.
Since she collapsed.
The servants told him it was exhaustion. The healer said it was “strain.” Whatever that meant. But Ryker couldn’t shake the image of her crumpled on the floor, her lips pale, her body limp like all the light had finally been drained from her.
He hadn’t gone to her since. He told himself it was because she needed rest.
But maybe… he was avoiding the guilt in his chest.
The door creaked open behind him.
“Thought I’d find you here,” Chase said, stepping in without waiting for an invitation.
Ryker didn’t turn. “You always do.”
“Because this is where
