“And I know she would never have left that young woman shivering in borrowed scraps.”
Rhen’s gaze passed around Mary and settled upon Veya.
She stepped back instinctively.
Mary noticed.
“You are frightening her.”
“Good.”
The answer held no hesitation.
Veya forced herself to remain upright.
“She does not belong in this room,” Rhen said.
“You made her part of this house whether you intended to or not.”
“I made her useful.” His eyes remained on Veya. “Nothing more.”
Mary’s expression hardened.
“She is not livestock.”
“That remains to be seen.”
Veya’s hands trembled around Leena’s dress.
Rhen noticed the movement and regarded it only as further proof of weakness.
“You touch nothing else.”
Mary moved another half step between them.
“That is enough.”
Rhen’s jaw locked.
For one moment, his gaze shifted beyond them toward Leena’s journals, her boots, and the cup that would never be lifted again. The fury inside him belonged wholly to the roomand the woman whose absence had transformed it into sacred ground.
When his attention returned to Veya, nothing remained except contempt.
“Get her out.”
He turned and slammed the door behind him with enough force to split the wood down the center.
Silence followed.
Mary released a measured breath, apparently unsurprised by the destruction.
Veya stared at the damaged door.
“I should not have come in here.”
Mary turned toward her.
“You did nothing wrong. Rhen knows only how to turn grief into violence and threat. Do not mistake his behavior for evidence that you caused any of it.”
