The stone walls of the Aldenar mansion were famously three feet thick, designed to withstand the siege of the South and the mountain-shattering winds of the Northern peaks. Yet, for the first time in his life, Elric felt as though those walls were closing in on him.
He paced the length of his solar, his heavy boots thudding against the floors. Three days. It had been exactly three days since the night of the festival walk, the night he had kissed Verona beneath the silver lanterns and felt, for a fleeting moment, that the universe was finally in balance.
And then, the silence had set in.
It wasn't a hostile silence. There were no slammed doors, no icy glares, and no heated arguments. It was something far worse, a polite, smiling, and utterly systematic avoidance.
"She's leaving me," Elric muttered, the words rasping in his throat like gravel.
