Damian stopped asking me to forgive him.
I noticed it immediately.
For weeks, every conversation between us had eventually returned to the same words.
I'm sorry.
Give me another chance.
I didn't know.
I regret it.
I had heard them so many times that they had started to lose meaning.
But this morning, when Damian entered my room, he didn't say any of them.
He simply stood near the door.
"I heard you're feeling better."
I nodded.
"A little."
He looked at me.
Then at the book in my hands.
"Still researching the Veiled Court?"
"Yes."
"I brought something."
He placed a small leather folder on the table.
I looked at it.
"What is it?"
"Old records."
My attention sharpened.
"From where?"
"The original royal archives."
I stared at him.
"You had access?"
"I found a way."
