The silence after the fire’s retreat was worse than its roar. The cavern reverberated with a brittle stillness, as if the whole world was holding its breath to see what I would do next.
Arabella sagged against me, her weight sharp in its irony. My arms ached from holding her up, from choosing her—again and again, against every part of me that wanted to let go.
Wren’s hands were on my shoulders, holding me up. His touch should have been grounding, but even through the warmth of his skin I could feel his question pressing in on me. Why? Why her?
“I had to,” I whispered, more to myself than to him. My voice was shredded, as if the flames had burned through my throat as well as my resolve.
Arabella stirred, her head lifting weakly, eyes blazing despite the burns still raw on her skin. “Had
