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22: This Place Is Filled With Ulterior Motives and Foreboding Secrets

I don’t notice the setting sun or the creak of the door. It’s his voice simply saying my name that startles me. Hopping to my feet, wiping tear streaks from my face, I put my shield back up. “What do you want?”

Nox is more considerate than Silas. My aggression leaves him speechless, which is a first. With a single step forward his booted foot crunches a piece of glass. His eyes whip around the room before landing on the broken frame. “Did you do that?”

“Maybe.” I don’t why I don’t admit it. It’s pretty obvious that I did it as I’m the only one in the room. “It was an accident.” Kinda.

“Someone can clean it up while we attend dinner.” He isn’t mad, but somehow that makes this all so much worse. For some reason I can tolerate anger, but not sympathy.

I can match anger with anger, but I can’t seem to let myself feel pity or compassion when I’m being held here against my will. Family or not.

Crossing my arm defiantly, I jut my chin out, “I’m not going.”

“Yes, you are. It’s not a cho
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