"Fiancé…" Theron repeated under his breath.
The word rolled around in his head in a very unpleasant way, like a pebble stuck in his boot.
For a moment his heart thumped wildly, dropping somewhere near his stomach. He stood there silently, taking one slow breath after another until his expression returned to its usual calm indifference. Then he bent down, picked up the sword he had dropped earlier, and slid it back into its sheath with deliberate composure.
Unfortunately, the composure only lasted until he looked up again.
Aveline was no longer looking at him.
Instead, she had turned toward the ragged man behind her and was whispering something to him with an urgency that made Theron's jaw tighten.
That thin thread of patience he had been holding onto finally snapped.
"Aveline."
He reached forward, grabbed the front of her dress, and pulled her a step closer.
