A brittle breath leaves me before I can stop it, and once it does the rest comes with it, quieter than I intend but no less certain. "I was naive," I say. "I thought I had found my happy ending. My perfect family. A man who loved us and stood with me in it." His expression tightens as I speak but I do not stop. "I truly believed we were aligned. That we wanted the same things. That we would move through this together."
The distance between us feels smaller now, the room still moving while we remain fixed.
"But we are not."
Something changes in his face, something more immediate than the controlled irritation of a moment ago.
"I am leaving for Veynar," I say.
He goes completely still. "What?"
"You are needed here. That is clear. I am not going to stand beside you while you divide your attention between me and a kingdom that will always take more."
His hand shifts at my back, pulling me closer. "You are not something I divide."
"That is not how it feels."
His eyes hold mine. "You do not get to disappear for an entire day and then decide what this is."
“And you do not get to leave me alone like that and expect me to stay.” The words sit between us, unsparing and unsoftened. Neither of us moves.
Then he exhales, the restraint in him pulling tight one final time before something simply stops holding. "Come with me," he says. "The ball runs through dawn. We have time."
"The Sovereign will expect?—"
"I do not care what he expects."
No hesitation in it. His hand closes around mine, firmer now, leaving no room for argument, and he turns and pulls me from the dance floor without another word.
He does not slow until the doors close behind us. The sound of the ballroom cuts off at once, replaced by a quiet that feels heavier for what it follows. The map room holds its usual order, the long table spread with parchment and ink, borders drawn and redrawn across its surface as though the world itself can be contained there if someone works hard enough at it.
Colsar releases my hand only long enough to turn the lock.
I watch him without speaking.
When he faces me again the anger that had been driving him through the corridors has not vanished but it has shifted into something tighter, more controlled. "I fucked up," he says. The words are direct and unsoftened.
I say nothing.
He exhales once, then continues. "And I am going to tell you the truth of everything. Two truths. And then I am going to give you the apology you deserve."
I remain where I am, my attention fixed on him.
"Do you remember General Rorin?" he asks.
"Yes."
"He is the one who brought me the message that you were struggling at Rathmor," Colsar says. "After he gave me the news, I left to find you and he took over leading the unit. They were to finish handling the undead in the high pass, then return to Veynar."
His voice remains even but there is something in it now that was not there before, something pressing against the edges of what he is holding together.
"I do not understand what you are getting at," I say.
He draws in a breath, slower this time. "Asharin." My name comes out differently now, heavier than it had in the ballroom. "They never made it back."
The words hold in the air between us, quiet and complete.
Colsar does not look away. "They did not return," he continues, more quietly. "Not Rorin. Not the men I left with him. The force that moved through that pass was larger than we anticipated, and it did not stop there."
