Talyra followed a step behind him, trying to focus on the soft flicker of enchanted lanterns above, not the memory of what her hand had accidentally touched. Beside her, Nessa was quieter than usual, her brows furrowed in some invisible internal battle.
They watched Mikhailis approach one of the breathing shelves—tall and gently pulsing with the quiet thrum of enchantment. His fingers skimmed a tome's edge, trailing along the spine of a book bound in barkweave. His concentration looked sincere… at first.
But as both priestesses drew closer, the air between them grew charged. Subtle. Tense. Mikhailis, flipping a page with slightly trembling hands, suddenly stiffened.
They were close. Too close.
Pressed together in the narrow space between bookshelves, the two priestesses leaned in to get a better look. Not on purpose… at least, not entirely. Their robes—soft moonweave draped over generous forms—brushed his sides.
His breath hitched.
