But before the rivalry can detonate, Marin steps forward, her straight onyx hair falling like a blanket of midnight either side of her captivating face.
“I respect what you did, you know,” Marin says, and the tension cuts instantly.
Vren snorts. “Oh yeah? What’s that?” He snaps the words like he’s expecting another fight.
But Marin’s face is serious, unflinching. “You sacrificed yourselves to protect Dravara. Followed through on the oath you took.”
She shrugs like it’s obvious.
“That takes balls.”
Vren stills, surprised by the praise.
Then his gaze snaps to Caev. “At least someone appreciates what the Melders do for the realms.”
Caev rolls her eyes. “I didn’t say I didn’t appreciate it, I just don’t care,” she murmurs to no one in particular.
So much for bonding.
Jax strides into the center of the space. “How’s your oath to Caeloria going, Marin? How’s loyalty taste when you spit it out?”
Ronyn winces at the venom in her words.
Gods, she’s hurting.
Every part of her is bleeding, even if no one can see it.
Marin rounds on her. “I made an oath to protect Caeloria—that’s exactly what I’m doing. Even if I have to protect it from its own queen.”
She strides forward, teeth bared. “What my mother is doing is institutionalized hatred under the guise of commerce, order, improvement. But really? It’s murder, Jax. Would you have me submit to her in the name of loyalty?”
This is not banter anymore.
Eyes fix on the two women.
Breaths snag in throats.
But Marin keeps going. “You’re no different to her, Jax. Hatred under the guise of protection. Cruelty under the guise of care. Stop lying to yourself, and admit that you hate who you are. Your head hits the pillow and it never knows peace.”
Jax flinches.
A rare slip.
Fuck.
No one steps in.
But Ronyn stands, desperate to protect her. This has gone far enough. He moves to speak, but Marin won’t stop?—
“At least I do something with my self-loathing—I act. I fightforthe people I love. You fightwiththem, and those two things are worlds apart.”
Jax doesn’t speak, but her lip trembles. Caught somewhere between rage and heartbreak. Marin’s words found their mark, and she doesn’t look regretful for a heartbeat.
The silence stretches taut, waiting to snap.
Ronyn feels it before he sees it—how quickly this could turn. How easily old loyalties and old wounds could fracture something they barely have the luxury of calling an alliance.
Same pattern. Different faces. Hatred dressed up as something noble.
