She nodded when he told her not to fail again.
She did not trust her voice to answer. But she did it anyways. "I won't fail you again.."
Syris turned away before he could see the tremor in her hands and left the chamber with as much composure as she could gather.
The moment the heavy doors closed behind her, the control shattered.
Her steps quickened, then broke into an unsteady run through the corridor, skirts gathered in trembling fists as servants flattened themselves against the walls and lowered their gazes, pretending not to see.
She did not stop until she reached her own rooms.
The door shut behind her with a dull thud, and the silence hit harder than the slap had.
Syris pressed her back against the wood, chest heaving, breath coming in sharp, uneven pulls.
She wanted to scream—Gods, she wanted to scream—but nothing came out. It was as though something had wrapped itself around her throat, tightening with every breath.
Her knees gave out.
