Dorian stormed through the castle corridors, Magnus's words still ringing in his ears.
Coward. His Beta had called him a coward.
The accusation stung more than he cared to admit, perhaps because there was a grain of truth buried in it that he refused to examine too closely.
He rounded a corner sharply, his mind still churning with anger and frustration, and nearly collided with someone coming from the opposite direction.
He stepped back instinctively, an apology on his lips that died the moment he saw who it was.
Willow.
She stood frozen, a basket of fresh linens balanced against her hip, her eyes wide with surprise.
For a moment, neither of them moved, caught in that strange suspension of time that seemed to happen whenever they unexpectedly encountered each other.
Dorian felt his carefully constructed walls slam into place, transforming his expression from surprised to indifferent, then to anger.
