Julian spent the next hour in his study, not decoding the Chronicles, but searching through his own trunks.
He needed to make something for Alaric and pour his heart into it.
Martha said anything was fine, but showing how much he loved the Duke depended on how great his handmade gift was.
He found a yawn of fine, silver-blue wool he had brought from the Capital—meant for repair, but never used.
He didn't know how to knit, but he knew how to weave. And so, he began to work, his fingers moving awkwardly at first as he tried to create a simple, braided cord—a 'Tether' of his own making, infused with his own warmth.
But as he worked, the library door creaked open again. Julian froze, expecting Zane's amber eyes to be locked on him with their mocking sneer.
But instead, it was Alaric.
He looked exhausted, his hair damp with melted snow, his face lined with the stress of the day.
