The bond spoke at night.
This was the thing no one had told her about the bond's recovery, perhaps because it was the kind of thing that was difficult to explain without sounding either mystical or embarrassing. In the deep hours when the citadel was quiet and Lyra was settled and the ordinary distractions of the day had receded, the mate bond became more present. Not louder. Just more present, the way the stars became more visible once the light pollution of daily life dimmed.
She would lie in the rearranged Luna Quarters and feel the bond as a thread of warmth that ran from her sternum in a specific direction, toward the Alpha's quarters on the citadel's northern side, and she would feel, through it, not thoughts or words but something more primary. Emotional weather. The quality of a
