The fire in the hearth burned low, its warmth seeping into the room as the library basked in a golden-orange glow. Althea leaned against the window frame, her arms folded loosely across her chest. The moon was high, bathing the estate grounds in pale light, but her thoughts were anything but calm.
The progress she had made was undeniable. Her limp was barely noticeable, her confidence had grown in quiet but powerful ways, and the scars that once felt like chains holding her down now felt more like marks of survival. Yet, as much as she was beginning to reclaim herself, doubts still whispered in the back of her mind.
How much of her strength was real, and how much of it was borrowed from the man who seemed to steady her every step?
The sound of the door opening behind her pulled her fro
