The morning sun spilled through the windows in long, golden streams like fingers of fire, gently pulling the room from sleep.
Anana hadn’t slept.
She did, but it was always shortened, as her dreams were clouded by Lucien's eyes.
Not because of fear but because her thoughts had refused to rest. Her mind danced in circles, repeating every word she’d said, every scar the healer had touched, and every look Lucien had given her in the East Court.
She finally sat by the window, her knees pulled up to her chest, staring at the landscape of the Crimson Blood, when a knock startled her into alertness.
It was too early for the healer and the knock was far too firm, too commanding to be Ira.
She walked toward the door, opened it and froze in place, breath catching mid-motion.
Lucien stood ther
