"Where are you going?" Veer said, teeth gritted.
Cutie blinked once. "With Kaya," he answered honestly. "There's only—"
"Come with me," Veer cut in.
No discussion. No softness.
He tugged once more, steering Cutie away from the doorway and deeper into another side tunnel, feathers still clinging to his hair, jaw set. The message was clear enough: Kaya got one room alone tonight. Whatever talk or scolding or interrogation needed to happen with the rabbit, Veer would handle it elsewhere.
Kaya didn't look back.
Her room was exactly as she remembered it—simple, carved from rock, a rough stone basin, a shelf, a bed platform with piled blankets. She stripped off soaked clothes with slow, stiff movements, washed the worst of the storm off her skin in cold water, the chill biting but clean.
By the time she dropped onto the bed, her limbs felt like sandbags.
