Avyanne's pov

Mornings in Killian’s wing didn’t just start but they loomed. His presence was like weather you could feel in your bones: heavy, watchful, impossible to ignore.

When I opened my eyes, the curtains were already drawn back, sunlight spilling into the room like someone had measured the exact time it would hit my bed. The fire was alive in the grate, and a silver tray of breakfast sat on the low table beside my bed, still warm.

And he was there.

Killian leaned against the far ...