The corridor outside Aya's chamber was quiet.
Morning light had begun to spill through the tall windows of Peduviel's eastern wing, warming the polished stone floor and the pale walls carved with delicate patterns of ivy and birds. The sounds of the palace waking drifted faintly through distant halls - servants moving, doors opening, quiet voices carrying the business of the day.
Seth had been awake long before any of that began.
He stood a few steps away from Aya's chamber door, arms folded loosely, his posture relaxed enough to appear casual to any passing servant.
In truth, he had barely slept.
The bond had made certain of that.
He had felt it the moment it began the night before. Not seen. Not heard. Felt.
At first, it had been only a shift - Aya's emotional state changing in a way he had not experienced before. War and command often carried sharp edges through the bond: tension, exhaustion, anger, the iron steadiness she wore like armor.
