Damien's POV
I had barely slept after leaving Adrian's palace. The journey back to Blackthorn had passed in a blur of torchlight, cold wind, and the faint echo of his breath still clinging to my skin. Sometimes I wondered if the bond carried his warmth with me, or if my body simply refused to forget the way he had whispered my name while dawn crawled toward the horizon.
Either way, I didn't let myself think too long about it.
Blackthorn met me with its usual icy solemnity towering obsidian arches, thick stone walls that remembered every war ever waged beneath their shadow, and a silence that settled like frost on the spine. My guards escorted me straight to the eastern wing, where the council insisted on meeting the moment they heard I was within the gates.
I walked into the throne room still smelling faintly of Adrian's sheets.
