CIAN
Ronan understood without needing it spelled out. At least, he tried to. Any other time, if I did not know what I knew now, I would have thought it was simply one of his traits, that uncanny ability to read a room the way some men read a battlefield.
But when Maren's hand came up, flat against his chest, he did not argue. He did not protest. There was a shadow in his eyes all the same, something dark and restrained, even as his expression gave nothing away. He stepped back, offered me a single nod, and stayed exactly where he was.
I walked past Maren into the infirmary.
