Liora stared at the script carved into the bottom corner of the tapestry. Her pulse quickened. The name was unmistakably hers, woven into prophecy like a thread waiting to be tugged and beside it, a date that had not yet come to pass.
Behind her, the air shifted.
Lucien's presence loomed before she even heard his footsteps. She felt it in the way the room stilled, like everything within it had learned to listen to him. He didn't speak immediately. Instead, he stepped closer, his gaze falling where hers was locked. His voice came low, smooth as velvet fraying at the edges.
"You shouldn't be here alone."
Her breath hitched. "And yet, here you are."
A dangerous quiet settled between them, thick with unsaid things. The glow from the lanterns cast shadows over his face, but his eyes stayed on her dark, consuming, as if trying to read what lay beyond her silence.
"You read it, didn't you?" he asked, his voice brushing her like silk against skin. "Your name."
