Roxy looked down at her lap. Tyara had finally succumbed to her milk-drunk exhaustion, her tiny, fluffy white ears twitching softly as she slept soundly against Roxy's chest, completely oblivious to the heavy, suffocating tension filling the master bedroom.
Roxy took a slow, measured breath, her fingers tightening around the cold silver of the goblet.
"I am worried, Zarek," Roxy confessed, her voice dropping to a fragile, echoing whisper. She finally lifted her green eyes to meet his. "I am so incredibly worried."
Zarek's broad shoulders immediately tensed. He took a half-step closer, his massive hands twitching at his sides as if he wanted to physically fight whatever invisible phantom was plaguing her mind. "Tell me. Whatever threat is casting shadows in your sleep, point me toward it, Roxy. I will burn it to ash."
