Eira’s POV
The words vibrate through the soles of my boots.
*Fae blood acknowledged.*
Then, silence.
Not the quiet of an empty room. The silence of a held breath.
The darkness beneath the arch ripples, moving like water suspended in the air. It doesn't look like an empty hallway. It looks like a physical thing, heavy and waiting.
I can feel the weight of every eye in the plaza shifting toward me. My stomach pulls tight. I keep my face perfectly still, even as panic flares hot and sharp at the base of my skull. Only when I curl my hands into fists do I realize my fingers are trembling. I quickly force them still before anyone notices.
Art is the first to move. He shifts half a step, putting his broad shoulders between me and the arch. He doesn't look at me. He stares at the void.
