The room they assign us to isn’t small.
That’s what makes it worse.
It’s wide and circular, carved deep into the stone like a private sanctum—one bed, massive and low to the ground, draped in pale fabric that catches the silver glow embedded in the walls. No doors inside, only arched passages that lead back to the main chamber.
No locks.
No privacy.
No illusion of separation.
I stop just inside the threshold.
“This is a mistake,” I say flatly.
Damien steps in behind me, his presence immediate, overwhelming. The air seems to react to him—tightening, warming. He hasn’t looked away from me since the doors closed, like if he does, I might vanish again.
Rowan enters last.
He takes everything in with a single sweep of his eyes—the bed, the distance between us, the way my shoulders are
