Rhazek POV
I’ve learned something important over the years.
If everyone in a room is very carefully not talking about the same thing, that thing is either about to explode… or it already has, and you’re all just waiting to see who loses a limb first.
Judging by the way Blake’s jaw is set, Elle’s shoulders are just a fraction too tense, and the rest of us are suddenly fascinated by the fire like it’s about to recite poetry, I’d say we’re firmly in limb-loss territory.
So I clear my throat.
Loudly.
“So,” I say, rocking back in my chair and folding my arms behind my head, “are we going to address the ancient, world-shifting, bedtime-story-level elephant in the room, or are we all committing to a group delusion?”
Vaelor groans. Syrien closes her eyes. Kaelthryn doesn’t move, which means
