The silence after Neris's confession felt heavier than the ice settling over Frostmere. The fire burned bright in the hearth, but its warmth could not reach him. He stood rigid, jaw clenched, breathing unsteady as if every word he had just spoken scraped raw against his chest.
"I can't let her go," he repeated, voice low and ragged. "Mother… I thought after the trial in Caelmont, after the humiliation, after everything—" His hands curled into fists. "—I thought she would leave my mind , but I was wrong.
The moment I heard Valerian crowned her queen…" His voice dropped to a cold whisper. "My mood soured beyond repair."
Mowenna studied him carefully. There was something haunted in her gaze. "Neris… tell me the truth. Is this storm—" she gestured toward the window where the wind howled like a wounded beast "—your doing?"
A muscle ticked in his jaw.
"Yes," he said simply.
