I braced myself for the worst: a cold shoulder, a pointed finger showing me the door, banishment into the wilderness with nothing but my name to carry me. That's exactly what Jasper would've done. That's what my whole life had drilled into me to expect.
Ronan's palm slamming against the wall still echoed in my bones, a blunt punctuation to all the things left unsaid. The cabin smelled of smoke and old scrolls, but beneath that lay the metallic tang of blood and secrets spilled into his territory. I waited for the words that would end me.
Lyra's fists clenched at her sides. Selvara's eyes hardened like winter stone. Neither flinched, neither backed down. They'd stared down worse than Ronan. I found a strange comfort in their steady strength.
Ronan held my gaze long enough that I thought he might simply turn and walk away, leaving me to my shame and the child's uncertain fate. But he didn't.
