Dante remained awake long after the room had settled into silence. The steady, gentle rise and fall of Alina's chest caught his attention again and again, as if his gaze were drawn there without his permission. In the dim light, her face looked softer than ever, free of fear, her lashes resting quietly against her cheeks. Something in his chest shifted, unfamiliar and unsteady, and his heartbeat refused to slow no matter how much he tried to calm himself.
His shadows, however, were far less disciplined. They stirred restlessly along the walls and corners of the room, curling and uncurling with barely restrained excitement, responding to emotions he did not yet fully understand. Dante closed his eyes briefly and forced them back into stillness, reining them in with practiced control before they dared drift any closer. This was not the time, and certainly not the place.
