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~Damon's POV
The palace loomed tall and familiar as the palanquin finally drew into the gates, its carved wooden frame creaking faintly after the long journey back. The sun had dipped low, spilling its last fire across the courtyard stones, and the air carried that quiet stillness that only comes just before nightfall.
The palanquin stopped, and the guards stepped forward to set it carefully down. I rose first, my boots striking the stone. Then, without thinking, I turned and extended my hand toward her. She hesitated only a heartbeat, then placed her palm in mine.
Her hand was small, soft, and the faint tremble in her fingers made my chest tighten. Slowly, I helped her down, steadying her with more care than I should have.
"Careful," I murmured, though she hardly needed the warning.
She looked up at me then, her eyes catching the glow of the palace torches being lit, and for an instant, the world around us, the guards, the servants, the bustle of evening, faded away.
