“Serenya...” Isolde begins to say sadly.
Her door clicks shut behind her, the echo soft but heavy.
She didn’t slam it—that almost hurts worse. If she’d yelled, at least I could have stood there and taken it. But this quiet… that’s what gets me.
“Iz.” I say softly, “Let her be for now.”
“She...” Isolde starts.
“She feels betrayed, Iz.” Elyria says softly as well. “By all of us. And she is angry at herself. I don’t blame her.”
I move so that they can go past me. I realize I’m still holding the helmet. Serenya shoved it into my stomach outside. Maybe I’m still holding it because I need something solid, something with weight, because right now every thought in my head feels like smoke.
She knows.
The air feels heavier than it should—like the house itself was holding its breath. The wa
