Chapter 63
The heavy silence in Col's chamber was broken only by the crackling fire and his own ragged breaths. He sat on the edge of the bed, his body stiff, his eyes fixed on the empty space before him, the image of Shae's lifeless eyes burned into his memory. Amelia, her small frame curled up on a nearby chair, watched him with a quiet, unwavering concern. She had seen grief before, the raw, consuming kind that swallowed a person whole. But Col's grief was different, a silent, smoldering rage that threatened to consume him from the inside out. The palace, with its bustling corridors and hushed whispers, was a world away from the desolate chasm where Shae had fallen. The sounds of Northumbria, the distant chatter of guards, the clatter of servants, seemed muted, distant, as if filtered through a
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