The fortress had not slept.

Torches guttered in the wind as warriors kept silent watch around the sacred courtyard where Selene still lay. The mark of the Goddess shimmered faintly on her skin—half healed, half burning. Darius had not left her side once.

He sat in the chair beside her bed, elbows braced on his knees, eyes fixed on her breathing. Every rise of her chest felt like a fragile promise. Every pause made his heart stumble.

When dawn came, the light spilled through the stone ...