Kael
At some point during the night, I realized I was rubbing my thumb over his knuckles again.
The movement had become almost automatic, as though some part of me needed the reassurance that he was still here. Warm. Breathing. Still capable of talking far too much for any reasonable person.
Still mine.
The thought no longer sent me spiraling into another argument with myself.
It simply settled quietly inside me.
Drake slept peacefully beneath the dim lights of the infirmary. The blood transfusion hung beside the bed, fluids dripping steadily through the line while the monitors hummed softly in the background. He still looked pale. But color had returned to his cheeks, and every steady breath he took loosened something inside me that had been clenched since I watched that spear disap
