Verity's pov

Morning sunlight filtered through the tall, arched windows, painting soft gold across the room. I stirred against the sheets, momentarily disoriented before remembering where I was— Cassian’s chamber.

The space was too still and for a fleeting second, I thought he’d left. But when I sat up, I saw him by the mirror, already dressed in his dark uniform. His hair was neatly combed back, the silver clasp of his cloak catching the light. He looked like a king — composed, ...