Lyra's POV
My voice shook again, and I despised it. I despised how fragile I sounded when terror bled through my words.
Rowena moved closer until barely an inch separated us. Close enough for me to count the delicate creases around her eyes. Close enough to see that exhaustion weighed on her too.
"You love him," she stated.
There was no question in her tone.
"Yes."
The stark honesty of it tore something deeper inside my chest. I loved him. Enough to transform into a monster if it guaranteed his survival.
Rowena breathed out slowly. "And you believe you are the only one who recognizes this danger."
"I believe I am the only one who has watched him die," I whispered.
Her hand rose as though she might caress my cheek, then wavered before coming to rest on my shoulder. That simple contact steadied me more than any drink could have.
"You should have come to me," she said gently.
