Malvoria woke with a jolt.
But nothing was wrong.
The room was dark, but not threatening. The air was still, save for the slow rustle of the curtains where a breeze had slipped through. No alarms. No clashing steel. Just quiet.
Stillness.
Her heart was beating too quickly. She waited, breath held, for the feeling of danger to surge, to crack open the day like a war horn.
But it didn't come.
Not yet.
It was early. She could tell from the thin gray light creeping through the shutters, the way the world still held that hushed silence that came only before dawn. She blinked a few times, trying to ground herself.
Then she turned her head and saw her.
Elysia.
Sprawled on her side, one arm still loosely draped over where Malvoria had been sleeping, her silver hair a wild halo against the pillow.
Her expression was peaceful, lips slightly parted, lashes casting soft shadows over her cheeks. The blanket had slipped down, baring one pale shoulder.
