The morning of the door frame marks, I woke before him.
Not from the bond's frequency — from the specific quality of a morning that knows it is significant and announces it quietly through the light and the sound and the particular stillness of a place about to hold something permanent.
I lay still.
The east tower room. Our room now. Both sets of keys on the counter at home, but here — this was where it started. The window with both sides of the city. The marks on the frame.
Zevran's breathing beside me. Even. Present.
Caelen still in the deep frequency of the bond, and Solène beside him, and all four of us in the same direction.
I looked at the ceiling.
*This is the day*, I said to Solène.
*Yes*, she said.
*How does it feel?*
*Like coming home*, she said. *From a very long way.*
