Lyria felt as though her lips would fall off, every step wearing a forced, painful grin like agony. She clutched her husband’s arm like it was the only thing in the Kingdom keeping her aloft, and perhaps it was. They followed Navaill through the wide, welcoming corridors which usually made her feel so at home. No one spoke, each lost in their own thoughts.
More than once, Lyria wanted to reach out through the mindlink to speak to Wallace, or Ravelina, or anyone. It was a short walk across the castle from the study to the ballroom that Navaill led them toward. But it felt like an eternity. Lyria felt she knew in that moment how the Goddess felt in the swirling dark before time and substance was called forth from her mind. And she didn’t know what she could say to lessen the dull pain that
