It wasn't a dream. It wasn't the alcohol playing tricks on me, either.
As my lips parted in shock, my white breath rose into the air like cigarette smoke. Part of me wanted to scramble off that bench and run until my lungs burned, but another part—the tired, aching part—just wanted to stay still.
I chose to stay.
I knew I wouldn't get far on these shaky legs, and besides, I had nowhere else to go. My whole world felt like it belonged to her anyway.
Elara stopped right in front of me. I tried to look up at her, but my courage failed, and I bowed my head instead. I felt her let out a long, heavy sigh. It felt like a weight pressing down on the back of my neck, forcing me to stay small.
"Lyra."
I had no excuses. I had acted like a brat to her bodyguard and then decided to freeze to death on a park bench in the middle of a storm. My phone was dead, so she couldn't even call to yell at me.
Had she been worried? Or was she just angry that her property was out in the snow?
