Where should I start, huh?
I exhaled, the sound muffled by the bandages wrapped around my face, and met Zephyr's expectant stare. He hadn't moved an inch since I'd admitted the truth—that my "death" had been planned.
His arms were crossed, his expression unreadable, but his aura hummed with its usual sharpness. Impatience. Maybe anger.
No, it was definitely a demand.
Fine.
I sighed again, louder this time, just to annoy him. Then I began.
"It started after what you told me. About you and Luna. About the five years running."
Zephyr's eyes flickered—just a fraction—but I caught it. Good. He remembered.
That day, after he'd confessed how villages burned, how people got hurt just for being near them, how Luna blamed herself for every single loss… something in me had snapped.
Not at him.
Not even at their pursuers.
At myself.
Because wasn't my situation even worse than theirs?
