[Silthara Palace — Emperor's Chamber — The Same Day]
The chamber did not breathe loudly. It held its breath. Golden light slipped through the carved lattice of the high windows, resting across stone and silk alike—but at the center of it all, nothing moved.
Zeramet sat upon the lower diwan, still and unshaken.
Levin remained within his arms. One arm supported his back. The other rested across from him—protective, instinctive, and unyielding. His gaze remained fixed beyond the window, the sky endless, but his thoughts were not.
Then a shift, small and faint.
Levin stirred, and a slow breath parted his lips. His lashes trembled—and opened. The first thing he saw—it was not the chamber, not the light.
Chest.
His brows furrowed faintly as his cheek rested against it, still softened by sleep. His fingers shifted slightly against the fabric beneath him.
"…Zer…" His voice came hoarse and soft.
Zeramet's gaze dropped instantly; the stillness broke.
