The days that followed were quiet—too quiet.
No explosions, no threats, no looming assassins. Just peace. The kind that made Evelina restless.
She spent her mornings in the gardens or training yard, her afternoons in the war rooms listening to strategy briefings she barely understood, and her evenings with Damian. Always, Damian.
At first, it had been innocent—shared meals, sparring matches, brief walks through the flowering courtyards of Arcadia's upper levels. Then it became bold.
A brush of hands here and there, a teasing look there. She'd catch his gaze lingering just a little too long, and instead of looking away, she'd let it linger too.
He made her laugh.
Gods, it had been so long since someone made her laugh without strings.
