The morning broke with the hush of dew clinging to every leaf and blade of grass, the forest steaming faintly as the first touch of sunlight spilled through the canopy. Aria woke stiff, her body aching from the cold hard ground, but she forced herself to sit up.
Lorien was already awake. He crouched by the fire pit, coaxing the embers back to life, his movements efficient and unhurried. His sharp profile was outlined against the rising sun, his jaw set with a focus that reminded Aria uneasily of Kaelen. Yet there was something wilder in Lorien, something that belonged to the shadows rather than the throne.
He looked up when she stirred. “You’re up.”
Her voice was hoarse. “Barely.”
He smirked faintly, tossing her a small handful of berries. “Eat. You’ll need strength.”
Aria blinked at
