Rachel walked out of the room without a backward glance. Xavier stood there for a moment, listening to her footsteps fade down the wooden stairs.
"Well, that was fucking dramatic," he muttered to the empty room.
When next we meet, it might not be as friends.
What did that even mean? If the Heart of Winter needed all seven "stars" and she was actively searching for them, their goals seemed aligned. Her sudden adversarial stance made no sense.
"Maybe she just wanted to say something badass before leaving," Xavier said, grabbing his pack from under the bed. "Prophets and their theatrics."
He checked the contents quickly—extra clothes, a water skin, the small pouch Rachel had given him. Not much, but it would have to do. The rest of his supplies were with Naomi.
