The fire had burned low, casting the room in a soft, amber glow. The shadows danced on the stone walls, stretching and shrinking with each flicker of the dying flames. The silence was comfortable, the kind of silence that did not need to be filled, the kind that settled between two people who had learned to be together without words.
We sat together on the fur rug before the hearth, our shoulders touching, our hands resting on our knees. The day had been long council sessions, training, and the endless work of rebuilding. But now, in the quiet of his chambers, the world outside seemed distant, almost irrelevant. The candles had burned down to stubs, their flames small and flickering, and the only light came from the dying embers and the pale moon outside the window.
