The first thing I felt was the warmth.It wasn't the stinging, icy heat of the silver spark, nor was it the searing fire of the High Inquisitor’s violet light. It was a steady, rhythmic heat that smelled of cedar, old parchment, and the lingering scent of rain. It was the scent of safety.I tried to open my eyes, but my eyelids felt as though they had been sealed with lead. My body was a hollow shell, every muscle aching as if I had been crushed between two mountains. I tried to shift my weight, and a low, guttural sound vibrated through the air near my ear."Don't move, Elara. You’re not ready yet."The voice was Silas’s. It was rougher than usual, cracked with exhaustion and a haunting layer of desperation.I forced my eyes open. The master chambers were dim, lit only by the dying embers in the hearth. The moonlight filtered through the cracked balcony doors, casting long, jagged shadows across the room. I wasn't in the guest bed. I was in Silas’s massive, fur-lined bed, and he was
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