Their eyes around the city told him of Anatia, how she had sat in the warehouse for hours, crying.
It reminded him of those nights from before, those rare but loud nights when Anatia and Elexis argued. How, when the storm clouds gathered, Anatia would curl up with Lythian in her room and hug her sister, seeking comfort in the constant love and support of Lythian. How, even as she sobbed over the names they had called each other, she also raged at it. Hurt and anger melding together in the forge-hot fires of Anatia's heart.
Elexis however always ran to the stables, saddled a horse and rode as fast as she could. It wasn't enough to have the rain pelting down hard enough to bruise, she had to race the storm itself too. Like if she stopped for even a moment the emotions that burned in Anatia would catch up to her as well and she would be swallowed whole.
So he had listened outside Lythian's room, hearing his princess comfort and soothe her sister. But Lythian wasn't here now, and there was no one to hold Anatia when she wept, there hadn't been for a while, and Axton thought that in that moment he knew exactly why Anatia was so broken.
But he could not walk into that warehouse and hold her. Not when he knew what Elexis would do, not when he was about to help make it far, far worse.