Owen
A sort of calm panic washes over me. Panic at the idea that I’m about to lose Amelia yet calmly resolved to do anything I have to do to stop it.
“What did you do?” I ask, my tone lacking any of the vitriol I feel for my mate in this moment. I’m so, so calm.
“I pleaded with him,” she answers. “Anyone at the banquet can attest to that. I asked your father to consider you.”
I offer a pleasant smile, confident that she’s telling the truth, even if she’s probably twisting it. “No, Ava. What did you do to cause my father to sentence Maya to death?”
She recoils as if I’ve just slapped her. “Did you not hear what I just said? I was trying to help her – help you!”
Careful words that avoid my question altogether. I don’t let it ruffle me, basking in my own sense of calm, as if the sereni
