No more questions. No more pushing. Because he understood enough—understood the weight of the bond, the fracture in Thessian's usual certainty, and the difficult choice that now hung between them like an invisible blade.
Thessian turned then and headed down the narrow hallway toward the bathroom. The door creaked faintly as he pushed it open, stepping into the small, tiled space where the air still carried the faint, clean scent of soap and lingering damp heat from earlier use. He set the folded clothes aside on a narrow shelf and braced his hands against the cool edge of the sink, his head lowering slightly as his eyes closed for a moment.
Just for a moment, he let the iron control slip.
