"I never knew you loved me."
Cecilia had arrived prepared for many things. A war council, a den of schemes, a gathering of grim-faced allies. She had not arrived prepared for this.
For the sight of Eastiel Edengold, a man she'd always known as the bright, warm sun, standing before a crowd as a raw nerve of controlled fury. And for the way he looked at her now, as if she were a trick of the light he was too weary to dismiss.
"You know a great many things, Saintess," Eastiel answered, his voice soft, almost dreamy. His eyes held a warm, dazed mirth, the look of a man humoring a pleasant fantasy. "But you don't know everything."
He smiled and gently chided her. "Now, if you please, I know I need to sell my grief to move this war, but a hallucination won't do my credibility any favors. Can you be a dear and disappear for now?"
Cecilia's eyes faltered.
"Brother," Elias's hand clamping onto Eastiel's arm. His eyes were wide with horror. "I see her too."
