Avyaane’s pov

The mornings in Killian’s wing were different from the others. With Blair, the days began with noise, laughter, and showmanship. With Killian, it started in silence, heavy, watchful silence. His wing always felt colder, like the walls themselves held their breath.

That morning, I woke to find the chair near my bed occupied. He was leaning back, one ankle crossed over his knee, arms folded, eyes fixed on me as if he’d been there the entire night.

“How long have you been ...