My chest splintered. A sob clawed free. He dropped to his knees beside me, jaw taut, eyes fierce. His palm cupped my cheek, rough and warm.
“I will see you to your mother,” he said, voice thick with grief. “Then I fly for Radaan.”
“No.” My hand shot up, fumbling for his. “You can’t.” My words slurred, tongue heavy and slow. The world spun, blurring the edges. “Please. You don’t know–” My head tipped back, and I slipped into blackness.
Sweet humming tugged me from sleep. Dreamless, or maybe not—I let the images slip away, unwilling to chase them. They’d only remind me of what I lost.
“Tea, now.”
The sound strangled me. My mother. Her voice cracked something deep. My soul yearned for the calm she carried, the protection she offered. My heart splintered, knowing she alone might understand what Kallias meant to me.
She would be pivotal in avoiding war.
My eyelids stayed shut, too dry to wrestle open, and my tongue scraped across the roof of my mouth, attempting to shape coherent words that refused to form.
Arms lifted me. One eye cracked as a teacup pressed to my lips. The scent hit first—water lilies, soft and clean—then peppermint, sharp enough to clear the fog in my head.
She tilted the cup, and I sipped. Too sweet. My body jolted, adrenaline rushing in a hot surge. The next sip came briny but cool, and my throat remembered how to work. I trembled, forcing down the tepid tea.
Only when the cup emptied did she let me sink back. She passed it to a servant, her blue sleeve nearly brushing the stone floor before she snatched a cloth from a basin.
Her graying, golden curls rose in pinned swirls, a silver crown tucked among them. As she wiped my face, her expression softened, a faint smile tugging at her lips. She pressed the cool cloth to my eyes, easing the sting, soothing the itch and ache.
“Mother–”
“Hush. Your brother will inform Nereus.”
I lurched upright. “Ronan?!” The name distorted, mouth thick and uncooperative.
“Do not rise, Nienna.” Sparks lit in her gaze. “Speak, if you must. But if you brave the Cireendium, Kalepsi will spirit you away to the Nest.”
Across the room, the servant glanced our way, lips drawn tight as she set the kettle on the hearth.
“Ronan cannot tell Father.” I tripped over my words, cringing. Shame pooled in my stomach.
“He sees to your brother as I see to you.” She sat back in her chair, studying me. “Can you not trust him to speak true?”
My gaze dropped to the silk gown clinging to my skin, clean and unmarked. “He’ll lie.” I bit down hard as her brows arched beneath the crown. “He doesn’t understand.”
“You were attacked. That’s plain enough to see–”
“By Ronan!” I snapped. “He did not attack me!”
“Who?”
“Kal–”
My mouth clicked shut, teeth catching my broken lip. Blood seeped onto my tongue, sharp and metallic. I glanced at the servant. Mother needed to know. Rumors would spread soon enough, but not like this. The staff didn’t need to hear my confession.
That I loved him.
That I broke him—and left.
“Aine, leave us, please.” Mother’s voice dropped, cool as water over stone.
I kept my eyes down. She already knew. The words I’d used. The defense I’d given. I had to make her believe Kallias hadn’t done this.
Aine bowed and slipped through the door.
