Chapter 92: Unlikely Anchors and Quiet Defiance
Lyria's POV
I stared at him.
For a moment longer than was proper, my lips parted in silent astonishment. The word he had spoken hung between us like mist over the water, refusing to dissolve.
"S-suicide," I whispered at last, the syllable tasting foreign and sharp on my tongue.
The Duke of Blackmere inclined his head.
"Yes," he said, with a calmness that felt entirely at odds with the weight of the word itself. "That is what it is."
"Compared to before, however, it has reduced," he continued. "Rather drastically."
He moved slightly in the water, settling.
"And it is for that reason that I am going to tell you what I tell most people in Blackmere—the ones we notice are on the verge of giving up but have not yet let go."
I just watched him quietly.
"As such," he went on, shifting faintly in the water, "I have taken to telling certain individuals something I believe may be of use."
