My chest tightens. I slam my cup down. The sound cracks across the table.
“Fine.” My voice is louder than I mean it to be. “You want to talk about it?”
I meet Lyra’s eyes, jaw clenched. “Let’s fucking talk about it.”
Lyra’s grin is slow and triumphant. “Please, let’s.”
I rake a hand through my hair. And then—the words are justthere.
“I’ve spent most of life being told what I am. Who I’m supposed to be. Before the prophecies, I was supposed to be a farmer’s wife.”
I laugh once—dry and sharp.
“Marry some boy from the village. Have babies. Grow old in the same house my parents did. Then someone calls me the Spiritborn. Says this is my destiny. And suddenly I belong to the realm.”
I pause. The heat rises in my throat.
“And now—” I shake my head, exhale hard. “Now I finally have something.Someone.That felt likemine. Because I wanted it.Ichose . . . or at least I thought so.”
I glance up. All of them watching. No one says a word.
“So how am I supposed to trust it? How am I supposed to believe he wasn’t chosenforme like everything else in this godsdamned life? I’ve lost so much. And I’m stuck in it.”
The words scrape out of me. Sharp. Bare. Raw.
“My parents. My home.”
I swallow. Hard. And it burns.
“And now—after all the training. All the fighting. All the running . . . I’m supposed to let myself care about someone like him?” I look up, eyes burning. “Not just care, but feeleverything—because of this bond? Someone who could—”
The rest catches in my throat. To sharp to finish.
Lyra doesn’t look away. “Someone who could die.”
Taila reaches across the table and places her hand over mine. Nessa’s eyes shine—but she doesn’t speak. She just listens.
My voice cracks. “Another person who could be taken from me. And I don’t know if I’d survive that. Not again.”
The words scrape out, too soft and too sharp. My chest aches with the memory of the last time I saw my parents and didn’t get to say goodbye.
Darius reaches across, fingers curling around my wrist. His hand anchors me. “You’re allowed to be afraid, Amara.”
I let out a breath. Ragged. Unsteady. “I don’t know how to carry this.”
Nessa tilts her head, watching me. “But Amara . . . you already are.”
I let out a rough breath, rubbing my fingers over my temple. “Gods. First Calryx, now all of you?”
Lyra snickers. “Your dragon is wise. You should listen to her.”
“She’s also a smug pain in my ass.”
Lyra raises a brow. “Sounds familiar.”
Fenric snorts. Darius elbows him in the ribs and Fenric yelps.
I glare at Lyra. She smirks. Taps her glass. Takes another drink.
