Thorian stepped closer, his face completely devoid of warmth.
“Selindra just lost someone important to her,” he said coldly. “And now you’re ruining his burial? You’ve crossed the line, Morwen.” His gaze hardened further. “Apologize to Selindra. Now.”
Thorian’s voice cut through the private line again—cold, sharp, leaving no room for defiance. It wasn’t just a command; it carried contempt.
“Apologize,” he ordered flatly, “to the woman whose ground you just disrespected.”
For a moment, everything inside me seemed to collapse under the weight of it.
He was asking me to bow—to her—after what she had done.
Grief surged up like a tidal wave, nearly choking the life out of me. I lifted my gaze to him, fury blazing behind my eyes, my jaw clenched so tightly it hurt. When I answered, my voice was iron.
“Never.”
Selindra’s presence slipped in again, subtle and poisonous, her tone smooth as velvet but laced with malice.
“Thorian,” she murmured softly, “you always said your wife was composed, admirable… but look at her now.” A faint, mocking note crept in. “She’s hysterical. If the organization sees this… what will they say about you?”
That did it.