He paused, his voice carrying the weight of a command he expected to be obeyed: "Contact the Enforcers right now and withdraw your claim. We'll put this behind us. I'll have Selene visit you more often. Consider it compensation."
"An apology? Compensation?" Lyra laughed—a sudden, sharp sound, too shrill for the quiet healing chamber. She laughed until tears streamed down her face, until her chest ached, before finally stopping. Her eyes locked onto Fenris's, and she spoke each word with deliberate precision: "I have thirteen stitches in my forehead. I nearly died at her hands. And one flimsy apology is supposed to erase all of that? Fenris, tell me—is she the little sister I'm supposed to indulge, or is she the one you're protecting with everything you have? Your tenderness for her, your coldness toward me—isn't it obvious enough by now?"