The key turned once.Then stopped.Silence gathered on the other side of the door. Lydia could hear the muted scrape of boots, the shift of armor, the low murmur of men deciding whether they were brave enough to enter.Inside the chamber, Logan had gone still again.Not calm.Coiled.She stood between him and the door before she consciously chose to. The basin water dripped from the cloth in her hand. Blood still marked her fingers from tending his wounds.“Move,” he said quietly.“No.”“They are not here to speak.”“Neither am I.”The bond flared hot between them—irritation, warning, something darker beneath both. But it was steadier than before. Stronger. The longer she stood near him, the less violent the pressure became.That realization frightened her more than the men outside.The lock rattled again.Then the older guard’s voice came through the wood. “By order of His Majesty, open the door.”“No,” Lydia called back.A pause followed, as if no one had expected her answer.“My la
Dernière mise à jour : 2026-04-18 Read More