The morning light had finally broken over the sprawling spires of the manor, transforming the rolling expanses of snow into a blinding, pristine sheet of brilliant white. Elara stood on a small, secluded stone balcony overlooking the frost gardens, the biting winter air stinging her face and numbing the tips of her fingers.
She had slipped away from the lingering guests immediately after the Threadbinding ceremony had concluded, desperately needing a solitary moment just to breathe without a dozen eyes analyzing her every movement. Rowan had let her go without a single protest, offering only a gentle, knowing nod and a quiet promise to remain just within reach if she needed him. His infinite patience was a profound comfort, yet it simultaneously made the sharp edge of her guilt cut that m
