The door creaked open as the sun dipped behind the cliffs, casting Kael’s chambers in golden firelight.
Vireya didn’t need to look up.
She felt him before she saw him.
The tension in the room shifted—like the space itself exhaled when he stepped through.
He was still in his armor, though the chest plate had been stripped. His black tunic clung to his chest with sweat, blood, and whatever dirt the guards hadn’t dared to wipe from him. His hair was tousled, jaw dark with stubble, shoulders squared despite exhaustion dragging at his spine.
His storm-grey eyes landed on her.
And softened.
Vireya stood slowly from where she’d been leaning near the fire. She hadn’t realized how tightly she’d been holding herself until that moment—until the sight of him cracked something inside her.
“Don’
