Serena barely remembered falling asleep. Her head had finally grown too heavy to hold up, her thoughts looping in a silent panic as she curled on the worn couch with a half-finished embroidery napkin still in hand. The last thing she remembered was the muted sound of patrols outside and the hum of Feyra's energy, protective but withdrawn.
Morning came with a sharp knock on the door.
Not a polite one. Three solid raps, impatient and uninvited.
Serena shot upright. Her heart slammed against her ribs as she pushed her tangled hair from her face and stood, legs aching slightly from sleeping curled up. The room still smelled faintly of the tea she'd brewed last night—unconsumed. She rubbed at her neck, where the mark lay hidden, where everything always began and ended.
The knock came again.
She opened the door with more force than she intended, expecting Charlotte—or worse, Silas. Instead, she found Julian standing on the threshold, lips pursed like he'd bitten something sour.
