Lila
The palace garden on the upper balcony was quiet—just the soft rustle of leaves in the breeze and the occasional buzz of a bee drifting lazily past the wildflowers.
I sat on the low stone wall edging the walkway, arms braced behind me, the sun warming my shoulders. My skin still ached faintly from training the day before.
My wolf—still frustratingly quiet—remained curled somewhere deep, like she was listening but unwilling to speak.
I didn’t blame her.
A few steps behind me, the guards kept their distance. Not too far from being negligent, but far enough to pretend I had privacy.
The illusion helped. Some days I felt like a decorative vase—watched, examined, never quite trusted not to tip.
I didn’t hear Asher approach, but I smelled him before I saw him.
“I thought I’d
