The quiet that followed their closeness felt almost sacred.
For a long moment neither Philipa nor Draven moved.
The candle burning on the small desk cast a warm, wavering glow across the stone walls, softening the harsh edges of the academy dormitory. Outside the narrow window the night was deep and still, the moon hanging pale and distant above the training grounds.
Philipa lay against Draven’s chest, her breathing slowly evening out as exhaustion finally began to pull at her. The past few days had taken everything from her—grief, fear, anger, and the relentless effort of pretending she was strong enough to carry it all.
Draven’s arm rested around her shoulders, holding her close without pressure, as though afraid she might break if he held too tightly. His other hand moved slowly thr
