“I didn’t realise.”
“He thinks he has to fix it. All of it. Like it’s on him to carry the outcome.”
“But that’s not fair,” I said quietly.
“No,” he agreed. “It’s not.”
Silence again. But this one was different.
I felt it in my fingertips—where they still rested against his chest.
I let them trail down just slightly. Just enough to feel the shift of his breath.
His eyes flicked to mine, dark and unreadable. His hand tightened slightly over mine.
“I don’t want you to be alone in this,” I whispered.
“I’m not,” he said.
Still, he didn’t move.
But I could feel it in him—that tremor beneath the surface, like a fault line about to give.
I leaned in slowly, not to kiss him this time, but to rest my head on his shoulder, my hand still warm against his chest.
We didn’t speak.
But the silence between us wasn’t empty.
It was heavy with everything we hadn’t said.
Everything we still might.
Chapter 20
Phoenix
Work is good. It’s cleaner. Easier.
I sat in a study alcove at the back of the Sorrowsea library, poring over tome after tome, looking for references to the medallion Elle had found.
I had a few leads—nothing concrete. The reading was dense, layered with conflicting symbology and lost languages. Which suited me fine.
Complexity was better than chaos. Which made Caelen’s arrival especially unwelcome.
He sat himself down across from me like he belonged there, like we were friends, like he wasn’t the last person I wanted to see.
He picked up the medallion before I could stop him, turning it over in his hands.
“So,” he sighed. “She did tell you.”
I snatched the medallion back, glaring.
“Do you mind?”
“Actually,” he said, leaning back in the chair, annoyingly relaxed. “I do.”
He gestured toward two robed attendants weaving through the stacks—green hoods drawn, arms full. They crossed the room and dumped their burden onto the table in front of us.
