Rymora heard the words, but it quickly became obvious that she wasn't truly listening—not in the way Aira needed. The sight of Aira lying broken on the bathroom floor had paralyzed her. For a moment, she forgot herself entirely. Her lips parted, an airy gasp trembling on the edge of her tongue, the urge to speak was immense as it bubbled to the surface of her throat.
But then panic struck. As if slapped by reality, Rymora clamped both hands over her mouth, horror widening her eyes. She'd almost spoken. Out loud.
Without another moment wasted, she spun on her heel and darted from the bathroom, her footsteps thudding across the cold floor as she rushed back into the main room. Her hands shook violently as she snatched a parchment from the writing desk and scrawled her message with a trembling quill—letters jagged and crooked.
