Chapter 25 What Breaks When It Is Not Named
Kael closed the door behind him. Not gently. Not violently. Deliberately. The sound echoed through the chamber like a boundary being drawn. I stayed where I was, hands folded tightly in front of me, pulse hammering in my ears. The candlelight flickered, throwing shadows across his face—sharp planes of jaw and cheekbone, eyes too dark to read. “We need to stop,” he said. The words landed hard. I nodded once. “I know.” He stiffened, as if that hadn’t been the response he expected. “You shouldn’t have followed me,” he continued. “You shouldn’t have come to the pavilion. You shouldn’t have—” “Kissed you?” I finished quietly. His jaw clenched. “Yes.” Silence stretched between us, heavy and fragile. “I won’t do it again,” I said. “You made that clear.” “That’s not—” He stopped hi
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