Alistair POV
By evening, Hope Haven feels different again.
Not on the surface. The lights glow warm against wooden walls, laughter drifts faintly through the streets, and the scent of food lingers in the air like something out of a life we were never meant to have.
But underneath—There's a tension now.
Subtle.
And I feel it most in her.
Sarafina sits across from me at the table, absently pushing food around her plate. Lyra is talking—something about the training earlier, about how she wants to try it herself—but Sarafina isn't listening. Not really.
Cassian notices it too.
I can tell by the way his gaze keeps flicking toward her, sharp and assessing.
He's waiting.
But he doesn't ask. So I do.
"You're quiet," I say, setting my fork down, repeating the conversation starter she used with me earlier in the day. Sarafina blinks slightly, like she's just been pulled back into the room.
"I'm always quiet."
"No," I reply calmly. "You're distracted."
