I woke to the wards pulsing.
Not alarmed, just a steady thrum of recognition that pulled me out of sleep like someone tapping my shoulder.
Azryth stirred beside me, his arm tightening around me briefly before he went still, listening. The warmth of his body pressed against mine was grounding, distracting, entirely too comfortable for someone I'd accidentally married under duress.
"They're here," he said quietly.
I blinked groggily, disoriented. "What time is it?"
"Maybe forty minutes since Mara called." He was already sitting up, running a hand through his hair, dark strands falling back into perfect disorder like they'd been staged. I hated that I noticed. "The wards are recognizing friendly signatures."
Right. Mara and the survivors.
We got dressed quickly, not that we'd really undressed, just straightened ourselves out, and headed downstairs. Through the windows, I could see headlights cutting through the darkness, two vehicles pulling into the clearing.
