Samara woke up and noticed Caelion was not back.
The bed beside her was cold. The sheets were undisturbed. He had not returned since leaving her here last night.
She sat up slowly, his silk shirt slipping off her shoulder. The morning light streamed through the windows, golden and warm. Somewhere outside, birds sang. Somewhere in the palace, servants were already moving through their morning routines.
She should go back to the maids' quarters.
She should put on her uniform. She should pretend nothing had happened. She should act like she had never run, never been caught, never spent the night in the unnamed prince's bed.
If she went back, Elyra would have questions. Kelly would have suspicions. Madam Gasel would have punishments for leaving without permission.
Her head throbbed.
She pressed her fingers to her temples.
I am staying.
The thought came suddenly. Firmly. As if it had been waiting for her to wake up, waiting for the right moment to strike.
I am going nowhere.
