The first snowfall of the season blanketed the Kaelith mountains by dawn.
Elaria silently watched the white flakes drift from her chamber's small window. With shadowy figures moving around courtyards, guards honing their weapons, and Elders whispering behind closed doors, the fortress below shifted like a living beast.
Draven hadn’t come back.
Not since that kiss. That confession.
The specter of his mouth on hers was still there. Despite all neither of them had said, I could still taste the frantic desperation between them.
She turned her back on the window and threw her arms around herself. Nothing had changed in the healer's chambers since the night she came. Clean linen. Dry herbs. An untouched water basin.
A cage dressed in silence.
The knock came shortly after the sixth bell
