Eve's POV
She woke up late.
Later than she had woken up in months, the sun already high outside the window, the estate noisy with its morning routine, the smell of coffee drifting up from the kitchen. She lay in Damian's bed and stared at the ceiling and waited for the familiar pull in her chest.
It wasn't there.
Not Varek. Not the throne calling for her. Not the anxious incomplete feeling she had been carrying for three weeks without fully understanding what it was.
Just...nothing. Warm and quiet and nothing.
It took her a moment to recognize that feeling.
Peace. That was what it was. She had forgotten what it felt like.
Damian was already gone from the bed. She could hear him somewhere downstairs, his voice low, talking to someone. Silas probably. They had their morning routine, coffee and correspondence and quiet conversation before the rest of the house woke up, and even yesterday, even after everything, some things stayed the same.
