He couldn't get the silence out of his head.
Days had passed since he had confronted Arin in her cell, since he had asked her the question that had been the singular, agonizing focus of his entire being. Did you ever love me?
Her silence was a ghost that haunted his waking moments, a screaming void in the landscape of his memory. It was a confession, a confirmation, a final, damning verdict.
And yet…
He had seen the look in her eyes. The raw, unguarded pain. The flicker of a fierce, wounded loyalty she had refused to give voice to. He had seen her heart break, right there in front of him, and he had been the one holding the hammer.
Ryven's words were a constant, relentless echo. What if you kill what you love, because you listened to a ghost?
