"So you're just going to do nothing?" Ysmeine's voice was shaking with anger. "You'll just sit there and let them destroy him to protect your secret?"
The tension was thick. Lysara stayed quiet, looking back and forth between the two holograms.
Athea's cold authority seemed to fracture, her posture slumping with a weariness that felt ancient. When she spoke, her voice was low, stripped of its usual command, and laced with a pain that silenced Ysmeine's rage.
"Protect my secret?" Athea's voice was a bitter retort. "That secret, Ysmeine, is the only thing that has kept him alive for eighteen years. Are you trying to say my radio silence was anything other than his only shield?"
She leaned forward, her eyes locking onto Ysmeine's with a desperate intensity.
