Selthía;
I remain on my knees long after Zethar leaves.
The training field becomes void of sound, of heat, of purpose… Even the wind seems to hesitate, as though unsure whether it is allowed to touch me. My sword lies where it fell, half-buried in grass, and the metal dulled by dirt and shame.
Too late.
The words echo in my mind louder than any explosion ever could.
I press my palm to my chest, hopelesslyvtrying to soothe the ache that threatens to tear me apart. This burning… shameful ache and hurt in my heart.
What was I thinking?
Elián encouraged me, and I charged forth like a horse in battle. I charged foolishly! What was I thinking? That I'd say sorry and all would be fixed??
Zephan has always been an emotional child. He may have grown into a distant man, but I know that's a lie… a facade he put up to protect his heart.
Zephan feels deeply. And it's a miracle he forgave me. Was I truly expecting the same of Zethar? My very stubborn… broken child.
