LYRA
The door was open just a crack when I got there. A line of warm light shone through the dim hallway. I paused for a beat, Ana’s half-finished thought still buzzing in my head. What was she going to say?
I pushed the door open and found Zeviar by the window, his back to me. He was still in his dinner clothes, but his jacket was gone, and his sleeves were rolled up. He held a glass of amber liquid, not drinking, just holding it. His shoulders were tight, like he’d been standing there for ages.
He knew I was there, but he didn't turn right away. "How was the garden?" he asked, his voice softer than usual.
"It was cold," I replied. "Ana kept me warm."
He turned then, his gaze sweeping over my face with that intense focus he has. It always feels like he’s reading me, not just looking.
