Silas stumbled back as the impact of Aira's shoulder knocked him off balance. His heart raced, pounding against his ribcage. The soft light of the inn felt suffocating, and he could barely process the shock of seeing Aira, of all people, in the same place he had tried to avoid.
"Aira!" he blurted out, though the word escaped his lips more as a strangled gasp.
She stood over him, her presence commanding and fierce, eyes glinting with something akin to fire.
"What are you doing sneaking around here?" Aira demanded, her voice low and filled with irritation. She stepped closer, closing the distance, and grabbed his arm, gripping it tightly. Her fingers were like iron bands, heavy and inescapable.
Silas's breath caught in his throat. This is it, he thought, panic spiralling within him. She knows I'm connected to Yara. She must! His mind raced, scrambling to construct a believable lie, to formulate some response that wouldn't implicate him further.
