Chapter 198

The embers had sunk low, a delicate, breathing red.

Dante didn’t seem to notice the chill that crept across the floor; the past had its own weather, and it had closed around him like winter.

I pulled the blanket higher over our knees and threaded my fingers through his. His hand tightened, grateful and grave, and he stared into a place that wasn’t this room.

“War didn’t arrive with trumpets,” he s