Rayna opened the door before we could even knock. Her expression was unreadable, except for the fury burning in her red eyes. She stood framed in the doorway, her dark robe pooling around her like spilled wine, the black nightgown beneath barely visible. Her golden hair falling loose behind her back, gleaming in the firelight behind her.
"I assume you're both here to explain why my husband has a hole in his stomach?" she said, her voice calm, but sharp enough to cut through the air.
Beside me, Ravić straightened, his tone smooth, almost too composed. "Well then," he said quietly, "may we come in to explain?"
But before he could take a step forward, I pressed a hand to his chest, stopping him. A cold pressure tightening in my ribs. Something older than fear. Sharp and precise.
"It's my fault, Rayna," I said, the words scraping out of me.
Her red eyes flicking to mine, shock breaking through her anger for a single heartbeat.
"I was the one who stabbed him."
