Velara's POV.
The forest is quiet tonight, the kind of quiet that feels intentional, like even the wind is holding its breath. Vladimir’s hand is warm in mine as he leads me along a narrow trail I don’t recognize. His pace is unhurried, but there’s a spark in his eyes that makes me curious.
We break through a patch of low branches, and I stop short.
A blanket is spread on the grass beside the river, its edges weighed down with smooth stones. Lanterns hang from nearby branches, casting soft pools of golden light. A basket sits in the middle, the scent of roasted meat and fresh bread curling through the air.
I laugh — soft, a little surprised. “What’s all this?”
“We haven’t had a moment to ourselves in ages,” he says, smiling in that quiet way of his, like it’s a secret he’s letting me
