Elara’s POV
The stack of treaty amendments on my desk had become my best friend.
Every line I transcribed, every clause I cross-referenced, every margin note I flagged for revision—each one was a brick in the wall I was building between myself and the hum beneath my skin.
The mate bond pulsed faintly. A low, persistent vibration that lived somewhere behind my sternum. I’d learned that if I focused hard enough on the work, the hum faded to background noise. Manageable. Almost ignorable.
Almost.
I pulled another file from the stack and flipped it open. A border dispute between two minor lords over grazing rights. Riveting. Exactly what I needed.
The morning had been a gift. The end of the week at the imperial archive meant a flood of last-minute requests—nobles wanting documents sealed
