"No," he said, turning his face away.
"Listen to me," she whispered.
"No!" he repeated, his tone sharp.
"Instead of wasting what little time we have left on foolish dreams that only bring destruction," Eris said, her voice steady, cold, and devastatingly clear, "we should be preparing."
The room went dead silent.
Soren froze. The word hung in the air like a poisoned blade, preparing. Neither of them needed to speak the full sentence to know what it meant.
For a second, Soren's expression was completely blank, the terrifying stillness of a wire stretched past its breaking point.
Then, his face twisted into a rage so intense, so lethal, that even Aldwin straightened in his chair.
"There is no preparing!" Soren roared, his voice shaking the glass panes of the balcony doors.
"Soren—"
"I will not prepare!" he snarled, stepping up to the side of the bed, leaning over her, his pale eyes blazing with a wild, obsessive fury.
