“I'm so sorry," Weaver said.
They took small steps toward Valor and put their hands gingerly on their arms. He looked down, away from Weaver's supporting gaze, and she knew exactly why. In that pain, some kindness, shown by the right person could break you.
And he could not break now. He had to be strong. He was king after all.
She'd done the same thing when someone with genuine earnestness and care told her they were sorry about her mom. A smile, a nod, followed by a quick excuse me and then a solid ten minutes of straight tears in a bathroom stall.
“Thank you," Valor whispered.
Weaver pulled their hands back and nodded. Perhaps they were seeing that their friend didn't have the strength to access their grief just yet. Weaver seemed the insightful type that could understand what
