The vibrant energy of the marketplace and the sweet, chaotic laughter of the children at the orphanage had kept my mind occupied for most of the afternoon, but the moment the sun dipped below the trees, the emptiness of the stronghold settled back into my bones. Dinner in the grand dining hall had felt entirely too quiet without Demetrius sitting at the head of the long table.
By the time I finally retreated to our private quarters later that night, the silence of the bedroom was almost deafening. I stripped off my day clothes, washing away the dust of the market square before slipping into one of Demetrius’s oversized soft t-shirts. It smelled faintly of cedar and rain, offering a small sense of comfort as I climbed beneath the heavy, cool sheets of the mattress.
Settling back against t
