Northern watched Roma disappear from view, the embers of her final words still smoldering in his mind.
He turned away, retreating to the balcony where the city stretched beneath him, lost in thoughts to the flow of time and unaware of when the dim lights of the city had come alive, flickering like dying stars in the cold night air.
He had been in deep thoughts over the last few hours about the things that had transpired then.
Bairan's words.
Roma's defiance.
His own voice, sharp with contempt, now ringing hollow.
For all his strength, all his certainty, he felt unsteady.
"You've been rather hypocritical, Master."
Bairan had struck at something Northern hadn't been ready to face. Had he really been so blind to his own contradictions? He had called Roma selfish for throwing herself into danger, yet had he not done the same—again and again?
And it wasn't just about now. It never was.
