AYLA – POV
My boots sank into the thawing dirt. Dew clung to the cuffs of my trousers, and every breath tasted like ash and spring.
The scent of old blood still lingered behind the tent line. Not fresh—just remembered. Most of it wasn't mine. Some of it would never be washed from the seams of my coat. But the fire was calm now. The ward pulses no longer screamed.
Still, I didn't sleep.
The fire inside me didn't let me.
Kael had offered—every night, without pressure, without assumption. But I slept alone. Not from fear. From clarity.
What we had now wasn't forged in the fire of impulse. It was tempered. Waited for. Deserved.
The Ashborne called me Luna. But I hadn't accepted the crown yet. I was waiting for her.
"Where's the scout?" I asked as I stepped into the clearing.
Callen raised an eyebrow. "Back an hour. Took three to calm her down."
"What did she say?"
Kael stepped beside me. "A child."
My spine stiffened.
"A child?"
