Fifty years passed like a dream.
Lena woke one morning to find silver streaking her hair—not just a few strands, but real, honest grey. She stared at her reflection in the small mirror above the washbasin, tracing the lines around her eyes, the softness in her face that hadn't been there before. The girl from the alley—the lonely librarian who'd never expected anything from life—had become an old woman.
"You're beautiful." Kael's voice came from behind her. He wrapped his arms around her, his own hair now more silver than gold, his face lined with decades of laughter and worry and love. "More beautiful every year."
"Liar." But she smiled, leaning back against him. "I'm getting old."
"We're all getting old." He kissed her neck. "That's the point. That's the gift."
Caspian joined them,
