Iris grew quiet then, her eyes fixed on the flickering lanterns. The light played across her features, revealing a vulnerability she rarely allowed herself to show.
"I have been thinking about Veylor less than I expected to since that night," she admitted, the name hanging between them like a ghost. "It isn't that I've forgotten him."
"It's just... the thing I was carrying that constant, gnawing ache it finally has somewhere to rest."
"I don't have to hold it up alone anymore."
Rex turned his head to study her. He knew what she meant. He had been the anvil upon which her grief had been hammered into something useful, something survivable.
"That was the purpose of the work," he said, his tone uncharacteristically gentle. "The training was designed to give you something else to focus on."
"To give the pain a container."
Iris turned to meet his gaze, a sad, knowing smile touching her lips.
"I know," she said. "But I truly did not expect it to work."
