DRAVEN
The flames crackled in the hearth, casting restless shadows across the stone walls of my study. The scent of burning wood clung to the air, but it did little to cut through the cold that had settled in my chest.
Papers littered the desk in front of me—scouting reports, supply logs, threat assessments. All vital. All demanding my attention. And yet, my gaze drifted to the window.
She was there again. Elara.
Standing in the courtyard beside Viola, her hands moved animatedly as she spoke. Sunlight caught in her hair, turning it gold, and for a moment, she looked like something pulled from a dream I'd never let myself have.
She didn't know I was watching. She never did. But since that kiss, she lived behind my eyes like an echo. The taste of her, the heat of her mouth against mine, I could still feel it. It haunted me more than any nightmare.
