Selene’s POV
The fever faded by morning, leaving me hollow and restless. I sat propped against the pillows, tracing the seam of the blanket between my fingers while my mind circled one thought over and over.
He remembered my name.
Not the name the world used, not the one that had been carved into treaties and marriage contracts. The one buried in my first life. Selena.
It could have been coincidence. A mistake. But deep down, I knew it wasn’t.
The witch stood near the table, murmuring soft words over his crystal, the smoke inside shifting in slow, lazy spirals. The early light spilled through the windows, cutting across his features. He looked unchanged from my memories of him—the calm eyes, the steady hands. But beneath that calm, I saw something new. Wariness. A tension that hadn’t
