The slap echoed across the garden.
Aire stood frozen where she was.
Her palm stung.
Across from her, Lysander's head remained slightly turned from the force of the hit.
The red mark slowly appeared against his cheek. Neither of them moved.
Aire's chest rose and fell strongly. The anger that had driven her hand vanished almost immediately.
Reality returned. She had slapped a dark fae.
Not just any dark fae, she had slapped Lysander.
Aire swallowed hard.
For one terrible second she wondered if she had finally lost her mind. She wondered if he'd kill her, and finally put her out of this misery.
Lysander slowly turned his face back toward her.
His expression remained unreadable, yet she could see the disappointment behind his eyes.
Aire's stomach dropped.
Immediately, the air shifted. A violent burst of dark purple magic exploded through the garden.
Aire flinched.
A familiar figure appeared between them.
Morrigan.
