TWENTY-TWO
Thea's knuckles grazed the stone arch as she entered Silas's quarters again. This time, she didn't wait for an invitation. He was at the hearth, his back to her, staring into the flames like they might speak to him. He hadn't said a word on the walk back. Hadn't touched her. But the silence between them wasn't cold—it was thick, hot, aching. "You're angry," she said, closing the door behind her. "No," he replied, low and quiet. "I'm terrified." She blinked. That wasn't the answer she expected. Silas turned to face her, his eyes darker than usual, like the firelight had lit something in him that refused to dim. "You stood in front of them like you'd already claimed command," he said. "And they let you. They listened to you." "Because I told them the truth," she replied. "And they nee
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