Alexei hadn't meant to wake up.
He slept like a soldier when he had to and like something wilder when he didn't—half under, ears open, knife near hand.
But it was the way breath in a room changed that pulled him up. Sera's. Small shift in rhythm, then the hush of weight being gathered instead of let go.
He didn't open his eyes. Instead, he counted the heartbeats. The frame sighed. Cold pushed into the room. No one else moved.
He slid his hand off the blanket, found his boots by feel, and lifted them without knocking the heel on the floor.
He stood, weight on the edges of his feet, and walked to the stairwell before he pulled the door closed behind him. The rope on the peg didn't rattle.
