I stood up, dusting off my clothes with a forced calmness. Eamon's gaze was filled with confusion and concern, but I had no intention of offering him advice on "how to calm Sia." Instead, I muttered a teleportation spell under my breath, vanishing from the scene in a swirl of magic.
Back in my room, I felt a surge of fury rise within me. The sight of her clinging to Eamon, the comfort I should have been providing, fueled my anger. I slammed my fist into one of the decorative vases my mother had meticulously placed around the room. The porcelain shattered, sending shards and my own blood spraying across the floor.
I watched as the blood from my hand began to dry instantly, the wound healing before my eyes. The cut closed up, leaving no trace of injury behind.
"Bastard Alfareezel," I muttered through gritted teeth. "You wouldn't let your vessel be hurt."
