“And you’re making things worse,” Felix added, voice low. “She wakes up every morning knowing you’re here. She walks the opposite way to avoid the east wing. She doesn’t talk about it, but I see it. The tension. The weight.”
Ethan’s eyes dimmed. “I didn’t mean to hurt her more.”
“You didn’t mean to hurt her the first time either,” Felix said. “But you did. And now your presence is a reminder.”
Ethan closed his eyes briefly, exhaling through his nose.
“So I’m asking,” Felix said calmly, “not as her brother, but as Alpha—to leave.”
—
The afternoon brightness from the trees reached across the great eastern section of the Crestwood Palace garden. Birds sang softly from a distance, but nobody was very happy—only a quiet feeling seemed to spread, since the world seemed to understand.
Etha
