Just moments ago, Ilkar had vehemently warned Eiravyne against touching him, and now he was decreeing that they should share the same room.
"You... just seconds ago... you told me not...not ..not ... not to even touch you!" Eiravyne stammered, her voice trembling with a mixture of disbelief and confusion.
"I know what I said," he admitted, his tone clipped and unyielding. "And that will not change, Eiravyne," he added with a hint of dismissiveness.
"H-how?! When you …you want us to share the room !!" Eiravyne stuttered, her voice wavering with a mix of incredulity and fear.
Ilkar regarded her with a cool detachment, his expression unreadable. "You'll figure it out," he replied sharply.
Eiravyne was supposed to be his wife according to what he said to her that night, her fate sealed by the mark of that burn scar—a symbol of their bond and her place in his world.
