Willow woke first.
The light had softened into late afternoon gold that slipped through the shutters in warmer tones than before. Thin bands of sunlight lay across the pale walls and the linen sheets, catching on the faint creases where they had slept and turning the room into something hushed and suspended, as if time itself had slowed inside these quiet hours.
For a moment she remained still, listening.
Leaves shifted faintly outside. Somewhere below the terraces the lake moved in slow, patient breaths against stone. The sound came and went like a sleeping body's rhythm, steady and reassuring.
Zane still slept beside her, one arm curved loosely around her waist.
The weight of it felt natural now, familiar in a way that still surprised her. He did not cling even in sleep. His hold was steady without pressure, the way he did everything else.
She turned her head slightly to look at him.
