Elara did not knock. The door to Kael’s chamber swung inward under the force of her will more than her hand, the latch groaning in protest. She entered not as the patient scholar of the night before, but as a force of nature barely contained, the air around her crackling with a charged, silvery anxiety. She closed the door with a definitive thud.
Kael was at the narrow window, his back to her, shoulders rigid against the dawn light that did nothing to warm the room’s chill. He did not turn.
“You’ve been lying to me.” Her voice was a low whip-c***k, devoid of its usual melodic curiosity.
“I haven’t,” he said to the glass, his reflection hollow-eyed.
“Omission is a lie, Kael!” She strode into the center of the room, the worn rug bunching under her feet. “Last night, I gave you a theory.
