Marin’s mouth twists into her signature snarl.
No one in the space breathes.
“I’d be more concerned if they started being nice to each other,” Teddy mutters under his breath, pinching the bridge of his nose, and extending his hand for a swig of brask.
That draws attention. The General of War has barely spoken since the conclave. Ronyn knows why—Teddy hasn’t looked at Seren. Not once.A fracture.
All eyes land on Teddy. Waiting for an explanation.
Marin’s eyes narrow to slits, her jaw tightening. She shakes her head once at Teddy, pursing her lips. Jax looks away.
Well, this just got interesting.
Teddy huffs an exasperated sigh and shrugs. “Their parents were both pushing for a betrothal to Kael. The only Luminaar child, or the Princess of Caeloria. Pitted the girls against each other to win his favor. They were kids, but… it was brutal.”
Elyssara’s mouth kicks up at the corners, a grin forming on her lips. Smugness settling into her features. A look that says:he’s mine.
Marin’s glare almost burns a hole in Teddy. She drags her eyes around the room. “I never wanted it.Him. Any of it. But mymother hates… weakness. Hates losing.” She throws an arm out in a half-frustrated, half-flippant gesture. “I had to.”
Saana’s eyes soften as they land on her wife. She knows about all of it, and no one can miss the tenderness there. The understanding.
Jax clicks her tongue in haughty arrogance. “They sound like the words of a loser, Marin. Finally willing to admit to the fact that I bested you across every domain?”
Fucking Stars, Jax.
Marin huffs an exhale, closing her eyes for longer than she needs to. She shrugs, resignation, or perhaps acceptance settling there. “They’re the words of a woman who has moved on and let herself love, Jax. Can you say the same for yourself? Or are you still trying to prove you’re enough?”
Jax stills.
Marin’s words linger in the air like a truth carved straight into the atmosphere. They sounded soft. Aware. Like the kind of words a person says when they’ve made peace with the truth.
Red blooms in Jax’s cheeks, shame and sadness and humiliation coalescing in the blush.
So Ronyn does the only thing he can to save her from retorting—he speaks.
“Look,” Ronyn says, tone softening just a fraction, enough to slip something honest beneath his performance, “we’re all here because we’ve got the same problem. Doesn’t mean we trust each other. Doesn’t mean we like each other.”
His gaze flicks, briefly, across the room. Landing. Reading. Moving on.
“But it does mean,” he adds, lifting the flask again, “that for one night, we might as well pretend we’re not all one bad decision away from killing each other.”
He takes another drink, then tosses the flask toward Vren without warning.
“Drink,” he orders. “You look like you need it.”
Vren catches it with a grunt. “Drinks on you?”
Caev scoffs a laugh from the other side of the cavern. “Typical,” she grunts, loud enough for the whole space to hear.
So Ronyn seizes the opportunity to divert the remainder of attention from Jax.
He plonks himself down against the stony wall—the only one not covered in bones—and props an elbow on his knee, another flask dangling from his fingertips.
“I think it’s story time. Starting with; why in the realms do the Melders and witches hate each other so much?” he asks, a cheeky grin lifting his lips, and his brows wagging in anticipation. “I’ve been starved of gossip since leaving Virellin. Let’s remedy that.”
Murmurs begin between both groups.
Eyes dart back and forth, weighing each other up.
