FAELAN'S POV
I watched Aviona walk toward her nest, the ghost of her pulse still thudding against my palm.
She had misunderstood me. That much was clear—and I couldn’t fault her for it. I hadn’t been clear enough. Or brave enough. I hadn’t said that I wanted her. That I wanted more.
Or was it the opposite?
Did she not want it—did she not want me?
Maybe her question—whether she was meant to play another role—had been her way of seeking clarity. Or perhaps it was a boundary, quietly set. The same kind of boundary she had drawn before, when I wrapped her in that green robe.
I glanced toward Aviona’s nest. She lay curled on her pallet, perfectly still. To anyone else, she might have looked asleep—but I knew better. I had watched her sleep countless times. Her breathing was too measured,
