The moonlight spilled softly across the room, touching the edges of the silk sheets and the faint outline of two bodies lying close together. The stillness of the night was almost deceptive, peaceful on the surface, yet heavy with thoughts neither could easily put into words.
Damien lay on his back, his hand resting behind his head as he stared at the ceiling. He hadn’t said much since he returned to the room, and Amara, who sat beside him, could sense the weight pressing on him. She had learned to read his silence as easily as she read his words.
After a long moment, Damien finally spoke. “Amara,” he began, his tone quiet, roughened by fatigue, “there’s something I need to tell you.”
She turned to him, her hair falling softly across her shoulders. “What is it?” she asked gently.
Damie
