“I’m fine,” she whispers. “It just caught me off guard.”
It.
Whateveritwas, it’s still with her. Haunting her in ways even I can’t see. I won’t try to pry answers from her, but I will remain vigilant.
Through the opening of the building I see Azyric shift his focus.
I feel the moment his attention tears from Sylvin and their argument. His gaze lands on Wren, and his entire stance tightens, the smallest adjustment betraying something far less composed beneath the surface.
But he doesn’t go to her–he comes for me.
His approach is silent, shadows curling behind him until he stops just short of me, still on my kneesand trying to anchor Wren through whatever storm she’s going through.
“You entered my territory unannounced,” he says while glaring down at me.
The only time I’ll ever allow him to look down at me.
“You stood in my castle.”
Each sentence is a thread pulled tighter.
“You entered her room.”
I don’t react. Not because I lack the skill to retaliate, or the inclination, but because Wren is trembling again. Every predatory instinct in me demands I sink my fangs into his soft throat and rip his spine from its depths.
I breathe once, carefully, and choose a different kind of response. One that puts Wren’s needs in front of my own.
“She could have asked me to leave,” I say, my voice steady. “I would have without hesitation.”
It’s just the truth, and that’s what makes it cut so deeply.
Azyric’s jaw locks. His shadows twitch, rising higher along his arms like they seek something to lash out at.
He opens his mouth again and my hands curl into fists as I slowly rise to stand in response.
NowIlook down at him as our chests nearly brush.
I let the movement speak for itself, deliberate and unhurried, every inch of it calm and controlled. I’ve stood before people far more dangerous than him.
My gaze meets his, level and unwavering.
“This isn’t about territory,” I say, quiet but firm. “It’s not about your court, or mine.”
My tone softens, but there’s no gentleness in it, only a restraint I’m barely holding onto.
“It’s abouther, and if you can’t see that she’s unraveling in front of us right now, then perhaps you’re not the protector you claim to be.”
The words settle heavily between us, but I don’t look away.
Not until I feel the slightest shift beside me and a heavy breath that trails through the air.
I glance to my side where she sits. Her eyes are no longer unfocused and glassy. No, they’re pinned on us with the burning rage of the sun itself glowing there now.
It’s then that I know no matter my efforts to stop this posturing, we’ve already gone too far.
Chapter 9
Wren
