Valtira.
It had been two weeks since I last looked Zarek in the eye—two weeks since that night I still couldn’t think about without my chest twisting, burning, and sinking like a stone thrown into dark water.
For fourteen days, I’d avoided his scent, his shadow, his footsteps, his voice. Even the faintest hint of him set the wound in my chest tearing wider, bleeding fresh.
And every time I caught sight of him with her, that wound festered.
They were getting close. Too close.
Laughing during meals. Riding together through the courtyards. Unhurried conversations that made it seem like the rest of the world had quieted just for them.
Whenever they stood side by side, Zarek never once looked away from her first. He stood behind her the way a man guards a treasure—while he glanced at me a
