From Home
The night was quiet after training, the cave alive only with the crackle of a fire. My body screamed with exhaustion, every muscle bruised, every bone aching. Lucien had pushed me past my limit again, and again I had survived.
But tonight, I wasn’t alone.
Louis appeared at the edge of the firelight, mud on his boots, breath ragged as though he had run for miles. My heart lurched at the sight of him—familiar, steady, a piece of the world I thought I had lost.
“Kimberly,” he whispered, stepping into the light.
I rose too quickly, nearly stumbling. “Louis? How—why are you here?”
He didn’t answer at first. He only reached into his cloak and pulled out a leather pouch, worn from travel. He pressed it into my hands. “From your father.”
The words froze me. My father.
My hands sh
