Eiravyne didn't dare move.
Not when his forehead rested against her cheek like that, not when his voice had cracked ever so slightly—so unlike him.
That single, fragile note in his words pierced through all the noise in her mind. Her breath caught.
Still, her body trembled. Even with his hands holding her face, even with his breath against her skin, the ghost of the old maid's voice echoed in her mind like a curse.
"He's troubled because of you."
She blinked hard, tears clinging to her lashes as she stared at him. Her voice came out in a strangled breath, raw and unfiltered:
" wh-where did you go, Urag?"
The question burst from her lips, unplanned, too loud in the quiet room.
Her hands were balled into trembling fists at her sides.
"Wh-why did you leave me here like that? Why didn't you say anything?" Her voice cracked on the last word.
Urag's expression shifted—subtly, but she caught it. A flicker of something: regret, frustration, pain?
