Soraya's POV
My room felt too small.
Too tight.
Too loud with the sound of my own heartbeat.
I stayed sitting on my bed for a long moment, breathing slowly, counting each inhale and exhale until my pulse stopped racing. But no amount of calm breathing could erase the lingering ghost of Ronan's grip on my arm… or the way Alderon's eyes had followed me like a shadow he couldn't let go of.
When I finally stood, I forced myself to move.
Do something. Anything.
Chores always helped.
So I grabbed the laundry basket by the door and stepped into the servant corridor where the air smelled faintly of lavender detergent and old stone. I folded linens, stacked towels, then scrubbed a vase that already shone. I organized Princess Seraphine's hair ribbons into neat color gradients even though no one asked me to.
Anything to keep my hands busy.
Anything to keep my thoughts from spiraling back into dark, dangerous places.
