Silver had started talking back, not loudly, or boldly, but in pieces. Fragments of resistance that slipped out before she could stop them. It happened in the armory.
Matt had been inventorying blades while she sat on the stone bench, absently wrapping her knuckles. Her movements were slow, deliberate, like she was trying to remember how to be inside her body.
“You shouldn’t be here alone,” Matt said.
“I’m not alone.”
“You’re not with guards.”
“I didn’t ask for them.”
That made him glance up. She hadn’t looked at him, her eyes were unfocused, drifting toward the high slotted windows.
“You’re supposed to,” he said carefully.
She shrugged.
“That doesn’t mean I want them.”
Matt paused.
“You’ve never said that before.”
She froze.
He turned fully toward her, and she slowly met his
