Aurora’s POV
Cayden’s laugh filled the air, light and free like a breeze sweeping through the open windows of his infirmary.
He was brewing something again—probably one of his disgusting yet miraculous teas—and humming an old lullaby from our childhood days. The air smelled like crushed herbs, lavender, and just the faintest hint of cinnamon. It felt safe here. Like nothing could touch me.
Like Alexander Thorn didn’t exist.
I sat on the cushioned bench near the far wall, watching the sunlight drape itself across the wooden floors like golden silk. My hands rested over my lap, still bandaged from the rose incident earlier, though the sting had long since faded.
But it wasn’t the wound that brought me here.
It was the emptiness.
Cayden always knew how to fill it, even if just for a wh
