[Lavinia's POV — Outside the War Tent, Under the Moon]
The night had softened. For once, the wind wasn't cruel—it whispered, cool and patient, over the camp's restless heart.
Below the hill, Eloria's army moved in a hurry. Fires flickered like distant stars, armor clinked, and somewhere a sentry hummed a lullaby to keep himself awake. But here—on the ridge above it all—it was quiet enough that I could hear the flags breathing.
Osric stood beside me, silent. The moonlight silvered his armor, softening what war had hardened. Solena perched on a broken post nearby, feathers folded, watching us both with knowing eyes.
I crossed my arms, eyes still fixed on the horizon where the mountains carved black lines against the pale sky.
"You know," I murmured, "this is the first time we've stood together without arguing since the coronation."
He gave a faint smile. "That's because there's no one left to argue with us."
