Page 146 of Bound to the Dreadlord

I say nothing. Just drop my sword on the table, the metal clanging against the wood with finality.

Xalith raises an eyebrow, lazily flipping a dagger between his fingers. “You look like hell.”

“Do I?” My voice is hollow.

Drathis pushes off the table and walks toward me, arms crossed. “You can’t keep doing this. You’re tearing yourself apart for someone who doesn’t want to be found.”

“She does,” I say, more to myself than to them.

Xalith scoffs. “She left, Veylan. She didn’t look back. She didn’t leave a note. She didn’t ask to be followed.”

Maelrik, quiet as always, finally speaks. “But she left a trail.”

That stills the room.

I glance at him sharply. “What?”

Maelrik nods, slow. “She’s not hiding. Not really. Not from us. There’s power in her wake. She’s… changing something. She’s fighting, becoming powerful and feared in her wake. Whispers of her version of justice being passed around. She fights oppression.”

“She’s becoming something,” I whisper.

“She already has,” Drathis mutters. “And you weren’t part of that choice.”

“I should have stopped her,” I say. “When she walked away.”

“Why didn’t you?” Xalith snaps. “You’re a coward and stupid. You don’t deserve to lead if you can’t keep your woman in line.”

My jaw tightens. “Because I broke her. She trusted me, and I killed her.”

Silence stretches between us.

Drathis exhales, shaking his head. “She’s alive. She walked off that battlefield. That wasn’t because of you—it was in spite of you.”

Xalith leans forward, eyes sharp. “And now you’re hoping to what? Follow her into oblivion? Hope she forgives you?”

“No,” I say. “I’m not hoping for anything. I’m not asking for her forgiveness. I just want to be where she is.”

They all stare at me like I’ve already lost.

Maybe I have.

I turn to leave, but Maelrik’s voice stops me.

“You’re not our general anymore.”

I pause.

“I know.”

“You’re not the male who led us through fire.”

“I never wanted to be.”

Drathis steps closer. “Then what are you now?”

I face them, eyes burning with something old and broken. “I’m hers.”

And then I’m gone. I leave them behind.

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