The ruins of the Imperial study were a testament to the night's violence. The charred remnants of ancient maps drifted in the air like black snowflakes, settling on the shattered marble and the singed threads of the Great Rug. In the center of the destruction, Vera lay tangled in Kassian's heavy, muscular limbs, her head resting on his chest.
She felt the change before she saw it.
Usually, waking up in the Royal Wing meant waking up to a bone-deep chill that only Kassian's proximity could soothe. But this morning, the cold was gone. Instead, there was a steady, humming vibration beneath her skin, a golden warmth that felt like she had swallowed a sun.
