I understood both emotions perfectly. The sadness was a grief for all those nameless, faceless people who had suffered in the shadows while the rest of us went about our lives, blissfully unaware. But the annoyance was sharp and hot, a prickling irritation that came from feeling lied to, from suspecting that the truth had been kept from us intentionally.
I was still watching the television when Kasteil and Nicholas appeared on the screen.
The image flickered, and suddenly there they were—my lover and his head of security their faces stern and serious as they faced a wall of cameras and microphones. The contrast between them was almost comical. Kasteil was composed, regal, his expression neutral as he addressed the crowd. Nicholas, on the other hand, looked like he wanted to strangle every single reporter in the room.
They seemed to be giving some kind of speech.
It had to be prerecorded because Kasteil was upstairs right now, sleeping peacefully.
