That didn’t matter.
She wasn’t there for him. She was there for Sean, the man who’d walked her through the fallout from that strange vision, step by painful step.
Assembling all shreds of bravery left within, she marched into the suite and called his name. No one answered, but a noise from the back sitting room—their favorite—drew her that way. Sean appeared in the doorway, unsmiling, his black waves falling into his face. He propped his shoulder against the jamb and crossed his arms in a move that reminded her flagrantly of David.
The sight of him eased something inside, like a puzzle piece clicking into place.
“Hey there, pixie girl,” he said, his voice ragged, plagued with exhaustion.
Pixie girl.
Anna’s stomach fell, but she soldiered on. “I just heard. I—I’m so sorry, Sean.”
His mouth curved, but Anna wouldn’t call it a smile. It was a mask. His every emotion was coated in a thin layer of ice. “It seems I am destined to remain an orphan.” His tone grew bitter when headded, “Because what hero would be complete without a tragic past?”
She drew closer, captured by his gaze.
“If you hadn’t insisted we go into Viterra,” came Isobel’s voice from inside the sitting room, “then none of this would have happened.”
Sean’s blue eyes fluttered closed, like he was gathering strength, but Anna scowled. “Are you assigning guilt?” she asked, quiet enough that she didn’t think Isobel would hear it.
“Of course I am,” Bel replied, squeezing past Sean in the doorway. She looked at Anna, taking in her messy hair and rumpled clothes with an air of slight disgust. “It’s time he learn that going into Viterra is a needless risk.”
Sean said nothing, though his jaw clenched.
Isobel huffed and strode away. After a moment, a door slammed somewhere in the vicinity of her bedroom. Anna lifted her brows at Sean.
“Would you like to sit down?” he asked, ignoring the whole thing. He backed away to let her inside.
To her surprise, the room was otherwise unoccupied, and Anna sighed with relief. She settled into the comfiest chair while he took the one beside her. “Is there anything I can do?” she asked.
His acrid laugh was more than enough answer, but he said, “Being here is plenty.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
The ice around his emotions grew even thicker, and she wanted to reach out, offer a commiserating hand or a supportive hug, but she couldn’t. He shook his head, his face so blank, emotions so frozen that she couldn’t help but see David in him.
She whispered his name, and his eyes shot to her, a confused notch between his brows.
“Your emotions feel like icicles,” she said.
“Do they?” His blue eyes darkened, but his gaze remained steady on hers. “What is that like, to feel emotions that way?”
Anna laughed, though she was tempted to cry. “Most of the time it’s manageable. Sometimes it’s misery.”
His expression turned contemplative. “Tell me how it would feel if I could sense your emotions the way you do.”
Her lips parted as the surprise hit. Against her will, the truth spilled out. “Right now? It would feel…like a knife.”
His expression didn’t change, and if she didn’t know better, she would think she was looking into green eyes instead of blue. His David vibes practically reverberated against her skin. “Explain it,” he said. “Tell me what he did.”
“What he…did?”
“Yes. Will you tell me?”
Heat prickled over her cheeks. “He—he broke my heart.”
She registered no astonishment, no disbelief. He already knew, and she wondered if he was searching for a specific answer.
