Notfollow me.
Together meant listening and sharing blame. Letting others disagree and stay.
It terrified her.
It felt right.
“Treaties can wait,” the Baroness declared. “My future husband will draft them after I confiscate every noble’s purse strings.”
“I—I truly don’t think bloodshed is necessary for—” Basil tried.
“Hush, dear,” she said lovingly.
Esther let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.
Nythir leaned closer, voice low. “You did it.”
Esther looked up into blue eyes that held pride, fear, and devotion.
“No,” she whispered. “We did.”
He smiled, soft as moonlight.
Lucy and Sylva were arguing near the door.
“You can’t just stand behind me every time someone approaches with aggressive eye contact,” Lucy lectured.
“I wasn’t hiding,” Sylva said stiffly.
“You used me as cover.”
“You have a solid tactical silhouette.”
“That is not a compliment!”
“It was intended as one.”
Lucy made a strangled noise.
Vorrik jogged past, carrying a ceremonial spear backward. Lyssara chased him, hissing, “Put it down before you impale a diplomat!”
“I am being careful!” Vorrik yelled, nearly stabbing the wall.
Sable glided after them in grim silence. “If either of you causes an incident, I will not hide the bodies.”
They quieted immediately.
Zaria and Luna intercepted Nythir as he and Esther stepped into the corridor.
“Well, well,” Luna purred, wings fluttering. “Look who’s glued to someone.”
Nythir didn’t flinch. “Not glued. Anchored.”
Esther’s heart did an unfair leap.
“Aww,” Zaria teased, “did you almost lose her?”
Nythir’s jaw tightened. Esther squeezed his hand.
