Isadora's boots echoed in the lonely corridor, the faint sound of the ongoing ceremony could be heard from here.
But she wanted to go home.
The night events already weighed her mind and body, even though she had just spent a few hours there.
The night was cold, compared to the Feast Hall, it was warmer. She wished she could have brought a scarf or something to keep the cold away.
The only option she had was hugging herself, but it didn't do much to prevent it, a reminder that Wintermoon was coming.
Isadora sniffled, wiping away the tears streaming down her cheeks. Why in Alda's name was she crying? Maybe it was because of Dain's words, they were somewhat true.
She shook her head. "Don't," she mumbled. She shouldn't bother about what that good-for-nothing said, he's probably trying to throw her off again.
He does not deserve her tears. No one did.
