Dorian‘s pov.

The night dragged into a restless sleep, and by morning, I felt no more rested than before. I got up, pulled on my clothes, and left my room, the wooden floor cool beneath my bare feet.

In the common room, I found Tiberius already there, seated in one of the worn chairs, a steaming cup of tea cradled in his hands. He looked up as I entered, nodding slightly, his expression unreadable. As if he had been waiting—for news, for a fight, or maybe just for the next ...