The morning after the stream felt as if the entire Iron-Wood Manor had finally taken its first, full breath in days.
The pale sunlight streaming through the windows did not feel cold anymore; it felt brilliant, golden, and entirely alive.
The suffocating, heavy silence that had poisoned the stone corridors had completely, spectacularly evaporated, replaced by the chaotic, deafening, and overwhelmingly beautiful noise of a Warlord family entirely reunited.
Roxy didn't even have the opportunity to let her bare feet touch the floorboards.
The absolute second she stirred amidst the dire-wolf pelts, Torian, completely unapologetic in his massive feline possessiveness, scooped her right out of the bed. The White Tiger ignored her sleepy, laughing protests, carrying her through the halls as if she were made of spun glass.
Kaelen walked closely behind them, wrapping an extra fur-lined shawl tightly around her shoulders just in case a stray draft dared to enter the corridor.
