[Leif's POV — Leif's Chamber—Present Day]
The fire crackled softly in the corner of the room, shadows dancing across the stone walls. Alvar's arms were a quiet fortress around me, his warmth grounding me back into reality.
"So…" I murmured, voice still hoarse, "now everyone knows that Zephyy is a dragon?"
He exhaled, smoothing the blanket over my legs with careful fingers. "Yes. But only the people of Frojnholm. The rest of the empire still believes he's a very… spoiled cat."
A tiny, tired laugh escaped me. "Thank god for that."
His hands came up, cupping my face—thumbs brushing my cheeks in a gesture far too gentle for a man who ruled armies. His eyes, cool as moonlit tides, held something that looked painfully close to fear.
"Leif… can you tell me what happened that day?" His voice dropped to a whisper. "Nick said your heart stopped."
My breath hitched. "Stopped?"
