The word still reverberated through Silver's chest like the echo of a blade striking stone.
No.
It had been simple, sharp, and unambiguous when she'd delivered it, but now it lingered in her consciousness like a bruise that ached every time she moved wrong. Silver stood at the periphery of the ballroom, positioning herself near one of the towering Gothic windows while pretending to be fascinated by the intricate crystal work of the chandeliers suspended overhead. Each prism caught light and scattered it into rainbow fragments that danced across the polished floor, creating an atmosphere of magical elegance that felt completely at odds with the emotional chaos churning in her stomach.
She could feel Eli's presence somewhere behind her like pressure against her shoulder blades—not moving closer, not retreating, just existing in the same space with the kind of weighted silence that spoke louder than any accusation or argument could have managed.
