[Sex scenes ahead]
The dim glow beneath King's door had become a silent sentinel in the quiet corridor of the top floor.
Two days had passed since their arrival, two days of uneasy victory after the woe that had swallowed them all whole. The fighting was over, the banners of their alliance raised in triumph, but the cost lingered like smoke in the lungs.
King had carried the heaviest share of it: the orders given, the lives lost under his command, the enemies who had fallen not out of hatred but necessity.
He had not spoken since they returned. Not to Mr. Eli, not to Vi either. Only the low lamplight betrayed that he was awake, as if movement itself might unravel what little remained of him.
Vi sat on the edge of her own bed, the silk of her nightgown cool against her skin, its deep emerald hue catching the faint moonlight filtering through the curtains.
The time was past eleven. Her fingers twisted in the fabric at her lap, restless.
