Javier didn't see her standing there.
His mind was far away, lost in thoughts that drifted beyond what anyone else could hear.
His voice, soft and private, seemed to reach the stars above, traveling farther than he realized.
Felicia was just beyond the archway, caught partially in shadow and partially in the gentle glow of moonlight.
She stood a few steps behind the edge of the wall.
She hadn't meant to be here.
She couldn't sleep.
Her room was silent—perhaps too silent.
Sleep had slipped away from her, as it often did after a battle.
So, she had walked out, moving with quiet grace—no escort, no sound, just the habits she'd learned since childhood—to find calm in the night's silence.
And now, here she was, quietly still.
He was at the edge of the inner wall, right where he belonged.
The boy who had beaten her in combat.