Ephyra laughed weakly, rubbing the back of her neck. "You guys need to calm down, because it's not as—"
"Not as what, Ephyra?" Malia cut in immediately, one brow shooting up. "Not as serious? 'Cause I really don't think so."
"Yeah," Cyran said, nodding firmly, his expression caught between disbelief and concern. "It is very serious."
Orla folded her arms, her sharp gaze fixed on Ephyra. "I thought nothing could surprise me anymore, but congratulations—you've just proven me wrong."
Ephyra sighed, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "I know. And I'm sorry I kept this from you. But like I said before, I can't explain everything in detail."
Malia crossed her legs, her tone softening only slightly. "We get that. But we're still trying to figure out how any of this even happened."
"Exactly," Cyran added. "How did you meet him? And why would he—of all people—want to be in a contract marriage with you?"
The question hung in the air like a loaded bullet.
