“And every wall I ever built,” I said quietly, “since that night on that terrace–“
I had stopped this sentence in the library. Had stopped it in the study. Had stopped it every time it arrived because it was honest in a way that felt like handing someone a weapon and trusting them not to use it.
Until now.
“You, Isla. You’re the reason they’re gone.” I held her gaze. “Not your bloodline. Not the Goddess’ design or the dormancy condition or anything outside either of us. You. The specific, actual you. The woman who burns dresses and argues through doors and told the Apex of the Untouchable Seven that he does everything wrong.”
The corner of my mouth moved. “You’re the reason.”
Silence.
Then she put the mug down on the windowsill.
And stepped forward and pressed her face into my ch
