Selara didn't step away from him.
Not immediately.
Her shoulder rested lightly against Draven's chest, his hand still firm at her back not restraining, not claiming, just there. The garden had gone quiet again. Even the wind seemed cautious, as though it understood that something fragile and dangerous stood balanced between them.
She could still feel Lyanna's presence beyond the hedges.
Not physically close.
But present.
Like a thread pulled too tight.
Draven's thumb moved slowly against her shoulder blade, an absent, grounding motion. He wasn't even aware he was doing it. Selara was. Every shift of his hand sent warmth through her skin, a reminder that despite everything despite the bond that had flared in the air when Lyanna stepped from that carriage this was real.
This.
Not fate. Not blood.
Choice.
"You felt it stronger than I did," she said quietly, not accusing. Just stating truth.
Draven didn't deny it.
His jaw tightened slightly. "Yes."
