Chapter 23
Lyanna
Iwake to the weight of Callum’s arm across my waist; an anchor I never knew I needed. His breathing is deep and even against my neck, our bodies fitted together as though designed for this exact arrangement.
For this perfect moment, I allow myself to imagine waking like this every morning. His scent wrapped around me like another blanket, the steady rhythm of his heart against my back. Simple, domestic perfection.
I shift slightly, and his arm tightens automatically, pulling me closer. Even in sleep, he’s protective. But it doesn’t feel confining as I once feared it might. It feels ... safe. A word I’ve rarely applied to my own existence.
“Morning,” he murmurs, voice rough with sleep. His lips brush against the nape of my neck, sending shivers down my spine.
“Morning,” I whisper back, turning in his arms to face him.
The wards cast shadows across his features, highlighting the sharp lines of his jaw, softening the usual vigilance in his expression. In this light, in this moment, he looks peaceful. It makes my chest ache with a sweetness that borders on pain.
Callum’s fingers trace a pattern along my shoulder, following the curve down to my elbow. “What are you thinking?” he asks, amber eyes studying my face.
“That I could get used to this,” I admit, allowing myself honesty in this protected space. “Coffee in bed. Waking up together.”
He laughs, the sound rough with sleep but genuine. “Subtle.” He slides out of bed, gloriously unconcerned with his nakedness, and moves to the small kitchenette in the corner of his quarters. The mate bond between us pulses with contentment as he prepares coffee, the familiar ritual feeling strangely intimate in this context.
“Two sugars, right?” he asks, glancing over his shoulder.
“You remembered.”
“I remember everything about you.”
The simple statement sends warmth through me that has nothing to do with the blankets. When he returns with two steaming mugs, I sit up, letting the sheet pool around my waist.
His eyes darken at the sight, hunger still simmering beneath the surface. He sits on the edge of the bed, handing me a mug. Our fingers brush, and even that small contact sends sparks across my skin.
“This is nice,” I say, sipping the perfectly made coffee.
“Nice,” he echoes, a small smile playing at the corner of his mouth. “That’s one word for it.”
We’re tangled together in the morning light, coffee growing cold, his hands roaming my body like we have nowhere else to be. His teeth graze my nipple, and I arch into him, savoring every unhurried touch.
An urgent knock at the door shatters our sanctuary.
Callum and I exchange an alarmed look before he slides from the bed in one fluid motion, pulling on pants with a warrior’s efficiency.
“Just a minute,” he calls, his voice immediately shifting from intimate to professional.
When Callum cracks the door, Derek stands there with a grin he can’t quite suppress. “You’re going to want to see this.”
I scramble for my clothes, heart pounding. Callum cracks the door wider, and Derek’s eyes flick briefly to me as I approach, hastily dressed.
“Found the tribunal-grade evidence,” he says, already pulling up files on his tablet. “Proof strong enough to present to the Marriage Tribunal.”
The words send hope surging through my chest even as dread tightens around it. We’ve suspected Faelan’s involvement, but tribunal-quality proof ...
“Show me,” I manage, my voice steadier than I feel.
Derek produces a tablet displaying enhanced magical signature analysis. “I brought in a tribunal-certified magical forensics expert—someone who can testify under oath. Look at these comparative readings.”
He pulls up some side-by-side signatures: the portal corruption that killed Caelynn and the contamination magic from our pack attack. The wavelength patterns are identical—not just similar, but a perfect match down to the micro-oscillations.
“This isn’t circumstantial anymore,” Derek explains, scrolling through the detailed forensics report. “The expert hasdocumented seventeen points of signature correspondence. That’s tribunal standard for absolute proof—anything over twelve points is considered undeniable magical fingerprinting.”
