Elara POV
He barely lets me out of his sight. When I try to explore, he’s there. When I ask for space, he hovers nearby like a shadow. It’s sweet in a possessive, overbearing way, but after two days of it, I’m ready to scream.
“I need to see my friends,” I tell him as we sit in his chambers—our chambers, he keeps correcting me—having breakfast.
His fork pauses halfway to his mouth. “Your friends?”
“Daciana and Selene. I need to know they’re okay.”
Something flickers across his face. Guilt, maybe. “I’ll arrange for them to visit.”
“Today.”
“Today,” he agrees.
When the guards brought them to my room this afternoon, I barely recognized them at first. They look tired, and older somehow, as if the past few weeks have aged them. But the moment our eyes meet, we’re rushing toward each oth
