The almost-kiss happened on day twenty-two. They were in the shadow gardens again—their place, apparently. Where they went to talk […]

Day twenty. Midnight. Draven’s private study. Raven stared at the chess board, trying to figure out how she’d lost three

Lady Vesper made her move on day eighteen. Raven was attending court—a routine session covering trade disputes and minor grievances.

They didn’t speak about Tempest for the rest of the day. Draven disappeared into his study to handle “court business,”

Raven sensed the presence before she saw it. Guild training, ingrained so deep it was instinct—the way shadows fell wrong,

Raven woke to the realization that she’d let two perfect kill opportunities pass yesterday. She stared at the ceiling of

The ballgown was a work of art and a tactical nightmare. Deep midnight blue that shifted to purple in the

Fifteen days. Seven assassination attempts. Zero successes. But standing in Draven’s study at midnight, arguing about the proper way to

The gardens were Draven’s favorite place at sunset. Raven had learned his patterns over ten days of observation, training, and

“You need to attend court today,” Draven announced, appearing from the shadows in her chambers just as Raven finished her