The embers in the hearth still flickered faintly, stretching the shadows long and slanted.
Curled beneath a thick quilt, Sif lay on her side, quietly watching the man sleeping beside her.
Louis breathed evenly, his brow relaxed. His sleeping face looked so gentle and handsome that he hardly resembled the nobleman who always kept his thoughts hidden.
His black hair was slightly tousled against his forehead, and his long lashes cast faint shadows in the firelight.
The boyish look he wore in sleep made her heart flutter.
Sif gazed at him in a slight daze, the corners of her mouth lifting gently, her eyes filled with an indescribable tenderness and contentment.
She brushed the tip of his nose lightly with her finger, then quickly drew it back like a child caught stealing.
But her smile did not last long before her eyes gradually dimmed.
The shadows of her past quietly surfaced in her mind again, like a heavy storm bearing down on her heart on a snowy night.
The Cold Moon bloodline, the brutal deaths of her people, her elder brother staying behind to cover her escape... none of it had changed.
She was still the Northern Frontier Lone Wolf, burdened with vengeance.
You're still... too weak right now, she murmured inwardly as she watched Louis. Should I tell you...?
Sif brushed her fingertips over his sleeping face, her touch as light as a feather. Tell you that I'm the last princess of the Cold Moon Tribe, someone who survived carrying a blood debt and hatred?
She hesitated for a long time, torn back and forth.
In the end, however, she only sighed softly. "I'll wait until you're a little stronger."
She whispered, light kindling in her eyes once more.
"I believe that one day, you'll be strong enough to