CASSANDRA’S POV:
I ran a towel through my damp hair, my fingers moving slowly, almost absently. The bath had cleansed my skin, washing away the grime and the lingering scent of the woods and earth—but it did nothing to quiet the hunger twisting inside me.
Dylan is still not here.
I had found some clothes in one of the drawers—plain, simple, nothing like the elegant gowns I once wore in our kingdom. But they were dry and clean, and right now, that was enough.
All I am left to do is wait.
I curled up on the sofa, my legs tucked beneath me, staring at the door. Dylan had promised he wouldn’t take long, but it had been hours now. The sounds of the city murmured beyond the walls—distant footsteps, passing voices, the steady heartbeat of life just outside.
A dull ache pulsed in my stomach,
