EMBER’S POV
She’s been at the edge of my vision this whole time, near the third table, handkerchief pressed to her mouth, crying, and my eyes have been sliding to her and off her since I walked in, catching on something I was too distracted by the bodies to fully comprehend.
Her grief is perfect.
She sobs softly, she dabs, she trembles, she holds herself together with such delicacy, and anyone watching me glare at her would call me a monster.
But I see it now, as clear as day.
The odd thing my eyes kept fixating on, although my brain had not caught up yet.
Hale looks radiant.
No.
That would be an insulting understatement.
Hale Volkov is f*****g glowing.
There’s no other word for it, and it makes my skin crawl to have such a vain thought in this room.
But… something feels deeply
