As the farewell feast wound down, I noticed something unusual. Asher, typically so composed, had been drinking heavily. His cheeks were flushed, and he swayed slightly as he bid the last guests goodnight. Concern flooded through me.
"Asher?" I approached him, touching his arm gently. "Are you alright?"
He turned to me, his blue eyes slightly unfocused. "Lyra," he said, his voice rough. "I'm fine. Just... tired."
I shook my head, slipping my arm around his waist to support him. "Come on, let's get you to bed. You've had a long night."
As we made our way through the halls, Asher leaned heavily on me. The scent of wine clung to him, mixed with his familiar pine and earth smell. It stirred memories of countless nights spent together, of the strength and stability he'd always provided.
We reached our chambers, and I helped Asher inside. As I turned to leave, his arms suddenly encircled me from behind, pulling me flush against his chest.
