Morning arrived quietly, almost reverently, as though the world itself feared disturbing what had been forged in the night.
Sunlight filtered through the sheer curtains, pale gold brushing Selara's bare shoulder, her tangled hair spilling across the pillows. She did not stir. Her breathing was slow, deep untroubled in a way it rarely ever was. For the first time in longer than she could remember, sleep held her gently, without nightmares, without the echo of bloodshed or screams.
The maids knew better than to wake her.
They had been instructed firmly, unmistakably not to disturb the woman in the Alpha's chambers.
So they waited.
