Killian’s POV
The celebration outside the hall had faded into murmurs and footsteps, swallowed by the howl of the night wind.
Inside my chamber, the air was too still.
Too clean. Too quiet.
Lilith sat by the window, her veil discarded beside her, moonlight spilling over her shoulders like liquid frost. Her gown caught every flicker of light, making her seem both angelic and inhuman.
I stood by the door, still wearing my ceremonial coat. My hands itched to tear it off, to breathe something other than the scent of roses and prophecy.
“You look like a man being marched to his grave,” she said, her voice calm, almost teasing. “Not a husband.”
I didn’t answer. My reflection in the window looked like a stranger, eyes too tired, jaw clenched too hard.
“I did what was required,” I said fin
