Sleep rips away from me in a violent jolt. My breath stutters, caught somewhere between a scream and a swallow, and whatever nightmare I was drowning in dissolves before I can grasp even a corner of it. Sweat clings to my spine, cooling too fast against the draft in the room. Sebastian lies wrapped around me, half sprawled, half cocooned, his face buried in the pillow in that unguarded way he sleeps when he finally lets the world stop gnawing at him. His hair is a dark tangle,his mouth parted, his lashes still dotted with dried tears from earlier.
Carefully, I slip out from beneath Sebastian’s arm. His fingers twitch, as if reaching for me even in sleep, but he doesn’t wake. The chilly stone floor steals the warmth from my feet as I crouch, searching for my shoes. My hands move automatically, push aside a shirt, pull back a blanket edge, sweep my fingers under the bed frame.
There. A glimpse of worn leather.
I tug my boots free, but something else slides out with them, a corner of black. A notebook. Thin, well-handled, tucked far enough back to be hidden from anyone who didn’t know where to look. I freeze, glancing up at Sebastian’s peacefully slack face. Whatever it is, he kept it quiet.
Curiosity prickles through the exhaustion. Slowly, silently, I take the notebook in my hands and lift the cover.
The breath leaves me.
My face lives on the first page, drawn carefully, lovingly, as if he feared any harsh line might fracture me. He sketched the curve of my mouth with painstaking precision, capturing the softness I hardly recognize anymore. The dimples, the faint glow at the corner of my eyes. He drew me as though I’m someone worth looking at. Someone who smiles.
The second page turns itself; my fingers are barely conscious of it.
More of me. Tiny stills, me tucking my hair behind my ear, me scrolling through a book, me glancing sideways as if I’d heard someone speak my name. Each one brighter than I ever remember feeling.
Then, Liam.
His grin stretching wide enough to take the whole page. Theo beside him, their heads touching, Theo’s blind eyes softened in a way words could never convey. The page radiates warmth, the sort of warmth that bruises now.
I swallow hard against the burn rising in my throat. I didn’t know Sebastian could draw, much less that he watched us, all of us, so closely. These sketches feel personal. Gentle. A world he didn’t share with anyone.
And now I’m holding it.
I glance at him again. His breathing is deep, even. Oblivious.
A small, reluctant smile edges onto my face. I slip the notebook beneath my shirt, tucking it close to my ribs like contraband. Liam needs to see this, needs something soft and good to tether him after everything we dragged him through. And Theo… Theo will want to know that Liam lives in someone else’s memories too.
I find a scrap of parchment on Sebastian’s bedside table and scrawl a quick note, keeping my handwriting steady despite the lingering tremble in my fingers.
Went to check on Liam. Back soon.
I leave it on his pillow, close to where his hand might find it upon waking.
With a few polite nods to the boys still dressing for bed, most of whom instantly look away, I slip out of the boys quarters, boots in hand until I reach the hall. Only once the door clicks shut behind me do I breathe a little easier.
The castle feels impossibly quiet at this hour, corridors sleepy beneath the lantern glow. The medical wing lies ahead, and with each step, the tightness in my chest loosens just a fraction. Liam is alive. Hurt, exhausted, but alive. And if I can bring Theo even a sliver of comfort, just one moment where grief loosens its grip, then maybe the world will feel survivable again.
I quicken my pace, clutching the hidden notebook to my heart as I head toward the one room in the castle where relief and dread wait hand in hand.
The medical wingis quieter than I expect, quieter than any room filled with grief and relief has a right to be. Only two beds are occupied now. Liam’s IV drips steadily, a soft metronome keeping time with the rise and fall of his breathing. Theo has curled himself into the narrow space beside him, arms wound around Liam’s torso, Liam’s cheek resting on his chest. It’s the kind of embrace that looks instinctual, like two bodies that have been reaching for each other across a lifetime finally found a moment to meet.
The sight hits me somewhere deep. This is the first time they’ve ever slept side by side.
Theo stirs first. He lifts his head from the pillow, rubbing the stiffness from his neck, his blind eyes blinking through exhaustion.
“Who’s there?” he murmurs, voice soft and frayed at the edges.
“It’s me,” I whisper, stopping beside the bed. His hand reaches out immediately, and I slide mine into his. He squeezes, grounding himself. Or grounding me. I’m not sure which one of us needs it more.
“What are you doing up this late?” he asks, dragging his palms over his face as Liam shifts slightly in his sleep.
“I thought I could sit with him for a while,” I say, easing down into the chair. “You should get something to eat. Maybe bathe. You’ve been awake too long.”
He lets out a small laugh, the kind that isn’t quite joy, but relief pretending it knows how to work. “You and Ares dragged your brother back into the land of the living, and you’re telling me I’m the one who’s exhausted?”
“You lost the man you love,” I say quietly. “That kind of grief sits on your ribs and steals your breath whether you acknowledge it or not.”
