Conlan’s POV
I loosened the silver-vine bindings with a precise knot, without hesitation, even though every fiber of my being resisted doing so.
Doris was free.
For a moment, she didn’t move. She simply raised a hand to her neck, massaging the skin irritated by the silver, breathing deeply, as if she needed to remember what air felt like without restraint. Then she lifted her gaze toward me, and there was no gratitude in her eyes—only promise.
“You kept your word,” she said, with a crooked smile. “That speaks well of you, Conlan. Very… noble.”
“It speaks of honor,” I replied coldly. “Something you don’t understand.”
Doris let out a brief, dry laugh.
“Oh, I understand it perfectly. I just don’t practice it when it gets in the way of my goals.”
I stepped back, marking distance. Silve
