Gideon’s POV

I didn’t hear her enter. One minute, I was pacing the hallway outside Evelyn’s old room—empty, cold, still smelling faintly of her jasmine scent—and the next, Serana was there. Perched on the windowsill like she was born from the night itself.

“You always forget to lock the wards when you’re emotional,” she said softly, brushing imaginary dust from her cloak. Her black dress clung to her like liquid, and moonlight traced the edges of her ...