Rayna POV
The fire’s burned low, and the first threads of dawn snake through the cracks in the shutters, painting pale gold across the wooden floor.
I haven’t really slept. Not after what I heard. Not with him sitting just feet away, breathing like stone, like nothing happened.
But now, something’s different. I sit up slowly, muscles tight from tension. My senses sweep the room before my eyes do.
He’s awake. Still in the armchair. Still watching the fire.
But there is a change. His hands are clasped, elbows resting on his knees, shoulders hunched slightly forward - like he’s been holding something back all night and it’s starting to bleed through the seams.
I rise without speaking. My bare feet barely make a sound across the wooden floor.
He doesn’t move. But I feel it - the moment
