The fire burned low, its glow soft and amber against the walls of the village home. Outside, night had settled deep over the valley, blanketing the world in quiet. For once, there were no council summonses, no alarms, no cries of war — only the hush of wind through the pines and the sound of Lucian’s steady breathing beside Talia.
She sat curled against a pile of furs, an old book resting on her knees — The Legacy of Flamebearers, a text Alina had brought her from the palace archives. Her eyes skimmed the words, though she hardly read them. Her focus lingered on the gentle swell of her stomach and the small, rhythmic motions beneath her palm. The life within her stirred again, a ripple of warmth and movement that drew a faint smile to her lips.
“They’re restless tonight,” she murmured.
