The estate had gone quiet hours ago. Silvermere slept beneath a soft, silver rain—the kind that didn’t storm or shout, only whispered. Droplets slid down the stable roof in slow, uneven rhythms, tapping against the stone like a heartbeat. Lanterns had been left burning low, their warm glow spilling across damp cobblestone and steaming hay.

Pin moved through the stable without announcing himself. He’d changed out of his formal clothes, hair still slightly damp, sleeves rolled up like he didn’t belong to a title or a name tonight. Just a boy who couldn’t sleep.

Ashborne lifted his head the moment Pin stepped inside. The stallion didn’t neigh. He never did. He simply watched—dark eyes steady, knowing. Pin rested his forehead against the wooden stall door for a second, exhaling slowly, then unlatched it.

“Couldn’t sleep either?” he murmured, voice low, almost rough.

Ashborne stepped forward, nudging his shoulder once. Pin huffed a quiet breath of a laugh and reached up, fingers sliding through the horse’s mane, grounding himself in the familiar warmth. Outside, rain tapped harder for a moment, then softened again.