Snow drifted in patient feathers, softening the fortress until stone looked almost gentle. Courtyard torches hissed in the flurry, their flames throwing honeyed light across the inner walls.
Talia drew her cloak closer and pressed a palm to the swell beneath her ribs. Small still, but no longer pretend.
Not imagination anymore. There. There you are.
Lucian’s steps came without sound, yet she felt him before he touched her. His warmth folded around her back, his breath a tide against her crown.
“You’re out of bed,” he murmured.
“I couldn’t sleep.” She tilted her face up. The blue in his eyes glowed steadily. “They’re restless.”
“They,” he echoed, reverent as always when he thought of her and the life inside her.
He splayed his hand over hers—large, certain—and the weight of it steadi
