Amara’s POV

The old man set his cup down with a satisfied sigh, the steam from his tea curling toward the ceiling like incense smoke. The fire behind him crackled, its warmth soaking into the quiet as the last of breakfast faded to full-bellied silence.

Cassian leaned back in his chair, his arm lazily draped over the back of mine. He’d been doing that a lot this morning touching me like it was natural again. Like there wasn’t a canyon of heartbreak and silence stretching between us. And ...