The night bled into dawn with slow, reluctant light.
The fires outside had long gone out, leaving only a pale glow filtering through the curtains of the guest chamber. The quiet hum of the realm — distant echoes of energy and faint murmurs of unseen creatures — settled like a lullaby against the still air.
Kael hadn't slept much.
He sat at the edge of the bed, his back straight, his eyes tracing the soft lines of her sleeping form beneath the sheets. Nerine looked peaceful — far too peaceful for someone who had spent the night in the same house as two demons arguing like storm gods.
A strand of her hair had fallen across her cheek. It caught the faint light like silk.
He reached out, hesitant at first, and brushed it aside with careful fingers.
She stirred at the touch. Her lashes fluttered open — pale green meeting deep crimson. For a heartbeat, neither of them spoke.
"Good morning," she whispered, voice still heavy with sleep.
Kael gave a faint, rueful smile. "Morning."
