Aelira didn’t speak for a long time.
She just stared at the woman with silver eyes, her mother—or whatever remained of her—glowing faintly in the mist like something pulled from another life. Her presence bent the air, made it thinner, heavier. The wolves had stopped howling. Even the trees had gone still.
Astren stood in front of Aelira, chest bare, skin still marked by her. His hand was close to his blade, but not on it. Not yet. He was waiting to see what Aelira would do.
The woman’s gaze didn’t move. “You’ve grown cruel.”
Aelira flinched like she’d been slapped. Her mouth opened, then closed again. “You watched me suffer. You let them take me.”
“I saved you,” the woman said. “More than once. But there were things I couldn’t fight. Not then.”
“Then why now?”
The woman tilted her
