Adrian's POV
The morning light feels wrong.
It spills across the marble floors of Damien's chamber like something foreign, too bright for a castle that spent the whole night drowning in silence and fear. A guard had broughg news that prince Alaric had found Selene and she was undergoing an exorcism. It had traveled fast, carried through whispers, rumors, and trembling breaths. Even the guards outside our door walked as if afraid to disturb the air.
But Damien had not moved since dawn.
He stood by the window, one hand pressed against the cold glass, staring out at the courtyard where the nobles gathered like flies around a dying beast. His shoulders were tense, his jaw locked, and every few seconds the mark on my neck pulsed, a sharp, hot warning that his emotions were spiraling again.
I sat on the edge of his bed, watching him, feeling the pull of him inside my veins.
"Damien," I finally whispered. "You haven't spoken since last night."
Nothing.
