Kaelen’s POV
The carriage swayed gently over cobblestones. Elara’s breathing had steadied against my chest. Shallow. Rhythmic. Unconscious.
The drug had finally pulled her under.
I shifted her weight, tucking the remnants of my coat around her bare shoulders. The ice-blue gown was ruined beyond repair—torn at the bodice, wrinkled into stiff creases, streaked with dirt from the floor of that room where I’d found her. Beneath the fabric, her skin still radiated unnatural heat, though the worst of the fever had broken.
She’s sleeping, Alec murmured, pacing restlessly in my mind. Good. She needs rest. You need to take her home. Not the palace. Home. Where she feels safe.
“I don’t know where she lives.”
The admission hit like a fist to the sternum. I was the Alpha Emperor of the Nightfire
