(GRIFFIN)
I give Maya, pacing my chambers like a caged animal as the hours crawl by. When the palace finally falls silent, I make my way to her cottage, moving like a shadow through the grounds.
I expect to find her outside, wrapped in her blankets under the stars. But the garden is empty, the grass undisturbed. Through the cottage window, I can see a faint light glowing in her bedroom.
She's trying to sleep indoors.
I know what that means: she's deliberately avoiding me, pushing herself to endure the confines of walls rather than risk encountering me in the open air. The knowledge aches deep in my chest.
I'm about to turn away, to give her the space she clearly wants, when I catch the sound—a sharp, ragged inhale, followed by another, and another. The shallow, panicked breathing of someone struggling for air.
