Eiravyne slid down to the floor, her legs giving out beneath her as the weight of the conversation outside pressed heavily on her chest.
Her heart pounded in her ears, the rush of blood drowning out everything but the tense voices filtering through the window.
The words they were saying—about her, about her past—echoed in her mind, stirring up memories.
She found herself huddled against the wall, her back pressed to the cold stone as she pulled her knees to her chest.
Her breathing was shallow, ragged, as she tried to process the flood of emotions crashing over her.
When Urag's voice cut through the air again, laced with biting sarcasm, Eiravyne flinched as though struck.
"Eiravyne doesn't want to see you ever again. She doesn't see your so-called 'taming' as saving her," Urag mocked, his tone dripping with derision.
Eiravyne clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms.
