The silence that followed my confession wasn't that of hatred; it was the heavy, suffocating weight of a heart breaking in real-time.
Noah didn't look at me with fury. He looked at me with a weary, profound sadness that hurt a thousand times worse.
He walked forward, his heavy steps soft on the sand, and reached down. He didn't grab my chin; he simply tucked a stray, tear-damp hair to the side, his hand lingering there for a second too long.
"Get up, little tiger," he murmured, his voice thick with that sadness I had seen in his eyes. "A Queen shouldn't kneel in the dirt, even when she's made a mess of things."
He handed the sleeping cub he was holding to Damar, who took the baby with a silent, mournful nod.
Fenric, meanwhile, was staring at the ground, his broad shoulders shaking slightly. He wasn't growling. He was huffing out short, ragged breaths, trying to find his footing.
