Morning light filtered through the curtains, soft and golden, painting Emily's room in shades of amber. She'd been awake for hours, sitting by the window, watching the sun climb over the horizon.
Sleep had been difficult. Not because of fear—she'd slept through worse nights on battlefields, with the sounds of dying men echoing in her ears. But because her mind wouldn't quiet.
Sebastian knew something. Maybe not everything, but enough to be dangerous.
A soft knock on her door pulled her from her thoughts.
"Come in," she said.
The door opened, and Timothy stepped inside, already dressed in a dark suit that made him look like he was preparing for war. His hair was slightly damp from a shower, and he carried two cups of coffee.
"You're awake," he said, not sounding surprised.
"I've been awake," Emily replied.
Timothy crossed the room and handed her one of the cups. Their fingers brushed briefly, and Emily noticed the warmth of his skin against hers.
