The fire had burnt down to embers by the time we finished speaking.
I had told him everything—not the full truth of the regression, not the impossible reality of living two lives, but enough. Enough to explain the vision, the fear, the desperate need to change the future. Enough to lay bare the burden I had carried since waking in Rosalind's body with Selene's memories burning in my mind.
Kaelen had not interrupted. He had not questioned, not doubted, not looked at me as if I had lost my mind. He had simply listened, his hand holding mine, his eyes fixed on my face, his presence an anchor in the storm of my confession.
Now we sat in silence, the grey light of the northern afternoon filtering through the high windows, the shadows long on the stone floor. The great hall was empty, the servants having retreated to their duties, the warriors resting after the long night of battle. Only the silence remained, along with the weight of everything I had said.
