Inside, warm lamplight softened the carved beams, driving out the cold, martial edge that ruled the courtyard. The room smelled of incense and steady heartbeats instead of drawn steel.

Rania’s sobs had faded. Color returned to her cheeks as she relaxed in Jared’s arms. The terror from earlier already felt distant to her, like a rumor that had lost its bite. In her mind, Julian’s retreat proved everything—fathers, like storms, rage and then move on. Love, she believed, had won its first battle.

The certainty lit up her smile so brightly it almost hurt to look at.

She lifted her head, voice soft. “Jared, don’t be afraid. With me here, Father won’t truly hurt you.”

She nestled closer, slender fingers smoothing the faint crease between his brows as if she could erase his worry. “When his anger cools, I’ll beg him to acknowledge you,” she promised, eyes shining. “You’re brilliant. He has to see that.”

Jared turned his hand to clasp hers, gratitude easing his features. “You’re carrying the weight, Rania. Because of me, you and your father—”

Her palm pressed gently over his mouth before he could finish. “Hush. Don’t talk like that.”