Their eyes locked—her luminous violet gaze trembling with emotion, and his golden eyes darkened by questions, confusion, and the bitter sting of betrayal.
Sapphira's heart pounded violently in her chest. A shiver ran through her core, her entire being quivering beneath the weight of the moment. Fear—raw and unrelenting—coiled around her like a serpent.
What would happen now?
Without a word, she turned and disappeared into the tent. Asher stood frozen for a breath, then followed, sheathing his sword with a sharp click. His pulse roared in his ears. His right arm trembled. Thoughts raced like wild beasts in his mind, and already, conclusions—dark and damning—were forming.
He flung the flap open with force, and there she was.
Kneeling.
Her hands rested in her lap, head bowed. Silent.
She couldn't look at him?
Or worse—was this some cruel mockery?
