The wind cut across the road, the sky turning a lighter shade of blue, bluer than the night. Ravić held me close, as if he was trying to keep me from breaking. His red eyes gazing down at our son, Lucien, all bundled up in his white cotton blanket, shielded from the chill.
His hand moved in slow circles along my back, steady and soothing. Though I could feel the tremor beneath his touch. I pressed my head into his shoulder, drinking in the warmth radiating from his jacket, desperate to anchor myself in him.
We both watched in silence as the King bent toward his daughter, Rayna, gathering her into his arms before speaking low to the couple waiting beneath the trees across the empty road. Angelo's stormy eyes flickered between us and the King, his jaw clenched.
The forest loomed on either side, shielding us from the horizon.
