Varyth’s jaw was clenched so tight I could hear his teeth grinding. His hands had finally dropped from my waist, but he’d stepped in front of me. Positioned himself between me and the others like his body could somehow retroactively shield me from this nightmare.
Too late, you absolute disaster. Far, far too late.
“You worked out the tension from sparring,” Darian announced brightly, his grin spreading across his face like wildfire. “Clearly. Very thoroughly worked out. All that... tension. From sparring.”
“So much sparring,” Fenric agreed weakly, still staring at the railing. “Never seen anyone spar quite so... vigorously.”
“With hands,” Darian added. “And mouths. Very aggressive sparring technique.”
I was going to strangle them both.
“Shut up,” Varyth growled, and there was murder in the words. The mist around him thickened, coiling like it was preparing to strangle someone. “Both of you. Now.”
“We’re shutting up,” Darian said, not shutting up at all. “Absolutely. Completely silent. Won’t say another word about the sparring. Or the hands. Or the?—”
Varyth snarled.
And then, because apparently, he wanted me to die, Cindrissian’s attention flicked back to me, lingering on my dishevelled state. For the smallest, briefest moment, I saw it. Something flashed across his expression. Too fleeting for me to catch. But for half a heartbeat, it looked like concern.
Varyth finally managed to turn and face them, though his usual composure was nowhere to be found. He inhaled, deeply, like he was preparing to make some sort of swift, dignified recovery. He failed. No words emerged. Nothing. Just air.
Cindrissian’s expression remained far too neutral.
Fenric muttered a curse or a prayer for patience, his gaze darting skyward. His hands lifted, then dropped, a visible war against the urge to turn and leaveand never speak of this again.
I couldn’t even fix my shirt. My hands had forgotten how to move. My legs weren’t steady. My throat wasn’t working. I wanted to vanish, dissolve into mist and float off the balcony and never return.
Varyth’s entire framebristled. He cleared his throat,once. Twice.
“Can I help you?”
“I—” Darian started, thenwinced.
“We—” A pause.
He straightened,summoning some form of formality back into his bones.
“We were looking for you, Varyth,” he managed, tone strangled. “There’s an urgent matter that requires your attention.”
Varythnodded, fastening the remaining buttons of his shirt, his movements stiff.
“Very well,” he said, wrestling back some control. “I’ll be with you in a moment.”
Dariandid not need telling twice. Hespun on his heel,grabbing Fenric and hauling him alongas he practically bolted from the balcony.
Cindrissian, however,remained. His eyes dragged over me again, and my breath stuttered in my lungs.
The growl that rumbled from Varyth’s chest was primal, a warning. Cindrissian’s gaze snapped back to him. The tension between them thickened, the space between them crackling with an energy I couldn’t quite identify.
For a second, Cindrissian hesitated.
Then, he gave a single, measured nod. A silent acknowledgement. Without another word, he turned on his heel and strode back into the castle, his cloak billowing behind him.
I released the breath I hadn’t realised I’d been holding. My pulse was still too fast. Varyth remained rigid, his back to me, his shoulders tense enough to shatter. He didn’t turn, didn’t speak, just stared after Cindrissian’s retreating form as if willing him to disappear from existence.
And that growl of his?
I wasn’t sure if it had been for me… or himself.
