Chapter Twenty-Two – Ash and Dawn
Tristan
He hadn’t expected her to ask for that.
Of all the questions Evandra could have thrown in his face, she had chosen training. Not the bond. Not her future. Not the apology he had wrestled with for hours before forcing the words out of his mouth. No—she had sidestepped him as if she sensed how close he was to slipping.
And Saints, he was slipping.
Tristan sat at his desk long after their walk ended, the council’s parchments spread untouched before him. He could still see her in the garden dirt—delicate fingers raw from pulling weeds, sunlight catching the champagne shimmer in her dark hair, head bowed under whispers she pretended not to hear. She’d looked fragile, but when she lifted her chin to him, her eyes had been steel.
Steel, and sorro
