Petal's POV

The night swallowed the courtyard in silence long before Aslaan returned.

The torches had burned low, hissing softly in the cold wind. I sat near the healer’s hut, fingers buried in a bowl of crushed herbs that had long since gone dry, the scent of yarrow and sage clinging to my palms.

Every creak in the wind made my chest tighten.

When the guards finally opened the gate, the heavy thud of boots echoed down the stone corridor. I didn’t need to see to know it was him. His ...