Morning did not come gently.
It arrived with tension already waiting.
The palace, though calm on the surface, carried something unsettled beneath it
like a storm that hadn’t decided whether to break.
Servants moved carefully.
Guards spoke less.
And everywhere
there was one name being whispered.
Elara.
Lyra woke before Kael.
That alone was unusual.
She lay still for a moment, watching him.
The way his arm rested loosely across her waist,
the way his breathing remained steady
but not deep.
He wasn’t fully at rest.
Even in sleep
something held him.
Gently, she shifted.
His hand tightened instinctively.
Not enough to stop her
just enough to remind her
he always felt when she moved.
“I’m not going far,” she whispered softly.
His grip loosened.
But didn’t disappear.
She
