But now that armor felt like it was crushing me.
I rose on shaky legs and slipped out of the room before anyone could see me. The halls were mercifully empty. My boots barely made a sound on the stone.
By the time I reached my quarters, I wasn’t sure if I was angry or heartbroken. Maybe both.
I shut the door behind me and leaned against it, staring blankly at the bed. I didn’t sit. Didn’t undress. I just stood there, trying to breathe past the knot in my throat.
Because everything I thought I knew was wrong.
He wasn’t the villain in my story. He was the shield. The man who burned himself alive so I could walk away untouched.
And somehow, despite everything, despite time and distance and pain, a flicker of that bond remained.
I could feel it. Faint and fragile, but there. Like an emb
