The meeting dragged on. Thorne had long clocked out by now.
Thorne sat at the head of the obsidian table, shoulders squared, fingers drumming a slow beat on the armrest. The voices of his advisors blurred together. It was the usual. The rebels had quieted down after the Adina attack at the outer borders, and that was to be expected. The rogues were as silent as dust. They could only discuss the food supply, outer patrols, and the looming arrival of the council members. But his mind? His mind kept drifting.
To her.
To the way her eyes had gone wide that morning. The pure, raw panic in them as he'd caught her wrist. The softness in her gaze before that. He hadn't meant to sleep that long. It had been… unnatural. Dangerous. Yet, somehow, he had.
He wasn't one to sleep. The nightmares that haunted him. The ghosts that lurked around his head every night. It was impossible for him to sleep longer than four hours, but he had slept through the entire night with her… by his side.
