Lucian
The night won’t let me sleep.
I lean against the balcony railing outside my room, watching moonlight paint silver patterns on the courtyard stones. Down there, servants pass like shadows, hurrying to and from their late tasks. But I’m not really watching them.
I’m watching her.
Amaya moves like someone who wants to disappear and somehow makes herself impossible to miss. A ghost, yet alive enough to stir every instinct I have.
I’ve been digging quietly for days, trying to figure out who she really is. A servant’s file should be easy to find. Where she came from, why she was taken in, and who she belongs to. But there’s nothing.
No records, no family ties, nothing but a name and the vague excuse that she was “taken in as a rogue.”
A rogue… with eyes like that? With hands that
