A soft rap on the door pulled her from her turbulent thoughts. "Enter," she called out, her voice laced with a weariness that belied her inner turmoil.

Damien slipped into the room, his brow creased with concern. "You missed the evening meal," he said gently, crossing the chamber to stand before her. "I was worried."

Elara offered him a small, strained smile, appreciative of his attentiveness. "Forgive me, my love. I've been... preoccupied."

Damien cupped her face in his calloused palms, his touch achingly tender. "Talk to me, Elara. What troubles you so?"

She leaned into his touch, drawing strength from his unwavering presence. "It's Zane," she confessed quietly. "His...