For several heartbeats, the room held its breath. The silence was so absolute that the crackling of the dying fire sounded like thunder.
Then, the spell broke.
Lily stood first, her cheeks flushed a deep, feverish crimson that rivaled the wine. Her eyes were luminous, fixed on Rex with a desperate hunger that bypassed all reason.
Without hesitation, she reached out and slid her palm into his, her skin warm and slightly damp.
Diana followed a heartbeat later; she rose with a slow, measured exhale, but as her fingers closed around Rex's other hand, he felt the unmistakable tremor running through her—the involuntary reaction of a soldier whose body was betraying her disciplined mind.
Elizabeth rose without a single syllable, her movements economical and precise, walking around the table to flank them. She didn't seek his hand; she sought his proximity, standing beside them like a silent guardian of the impending storm.
