The automatic mask slammed into place.
The one she wore when emotions threatened to consume her and she needed to survive instead of feel.
Cold. Composed. Distant. The Fire Queen who burned kingdoms and felt nothing.
"Welcome to Nevareth," she said flatly, the words empty of warmth. Formal. Meaningless.
Then she continued walking, moving past them, leaving Ophelia's surprised expression and Rael's confused face behind.
She didn't look back.
Couldn't look back.
Because if she did, if she saw her son's face one more time, she would break. Would crack open right there in the corridor and spill all the desperate love and aching grief she'd been carrying since the day she'd realized Caelen had won, had successfully turned her own child against her.
Her heart pounded. Raced. Threatened to burst through her ribs.
What the fuck is Caelen doing here?
She couldn't describe what she was feeling. Couldn't name it.
