I found a quiet corridor. And there, leaning against the wall at the end, was Rhys.
His gaze was sharp. Concerned. Proud. I could see every emotion etched in the lines around his eyes.
“Keya?” he said quietly.
I looked up. The words felt out of reach. “Rhys.”
His footsteps were silent as he closed the distance. "You alright?"
My heart clenched. “I am."
"You look..." he studied my face. "Something is wrong."
He nodded and stepped closer.
Rhys ran his thumb across my palm again, slower this time, like he could coax the truth from my skin. “Tell me, Keya.”
I hesitated. I wanted to say it, wanted to tell him about Elizabeth’s carefully veiled warning. But something in me clamped down hard, kept the words from spilling. Maybe it was pride. Or fear. Or just exhaustion from feeling like
