Lyra's POV
The words still hung in the air like poison, sharp and designed to destroy everything in their path.
I just needed everyone to shut up and let me think.
My arms wrapped tighter around my body, fingers digging into the fabric of my sleeves. Something hollow had opened in my chest, like a wound that would never stop bleeding.
Kaelen hadn't meant it. I knew that with the same certainty I knew my own name. The same way I'd recognized my mother's labored breathing in those final weeks when the sickness ate her alive from the inside.
He was drowning in his own pain, striking out at anything within reach. I'd done the same thing once. Screamed at every healer who dared touch my mother. Cursed my father when he begged me to accept the inevitable. Pushed away anyone who suggested hope might be a luxury we couldn't afford.
The memory still left a bitter taste in my mouth.
