When Lucian woke up, the first thing he noticed was that Marshal's face looked completely unique when she was asleep.
There were still all the sharp angles, like her strong jaw, defined cheekbones, and the scar on her left temple from a fight she hadn't told him about yet.
However, the expression that usually accompanied all those sharp features—the constant readiness, the professional assessment, and the emotional wall she had maintained for so long that it felt like a second skin—was absent.
She looked like a normal person. Someone who had finally gotten some sleep.
He stayed still and watched her for a while, being careful not to ruin the moment. The low angle of the morning light through the barracks room's small window highlighted the gold in her red hair and the way the blanket rose and fell with her breathing.
In the soft light, he could see the scars on her bare shoulder. Each one was a different color and texture, and they were stories he hadn't heard yet.
