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Burn them. He couldnât begin to express how many timeâs heâd pulled them from their hiding spot in his rooms, sat beside the fire and considered tossing them into the flame. Yet each time heâd gotten close, something had made him pull back last second and return them to where theyâd been. He was ready to grunt in acknowledgement ( a dismissal at her suggestion ), but when she stilled ( her hand moving to her skirts and a clear darkness falling over her face ), he found himself doing the same. It was the shaking in her voice that propelled him forward, any prior anger or heart break heâd felt immediately forgotten. Moving into her personal space until they were but a few breaths apart, his head bent down. âDid he hurt you?â The words were a growled demand ( though his flare of anger was directed toward the man whose name he didnât know ).Â
Before Ashara could process what was happening, Azriel had broken the space that had felt like a wall between them. He was close enough now that she could feel his breath against her skin. Anger, no, rage rolled off of him in dark waves. Ashara turned her head away. She did not want to look at him. He had left. He could do so again, and she would be left in ruin. Her father would be left in ruin. From the moment her fianceâs demeanor had begun to change, Ashara knew that this would be a precarious situation to navigate. One wish she was wildly unprepared for and did not know how to handle still. All she knew was that bringing anyone else into the problem would only put them in danger as well. She was entirely unwilling to do that. It was the reason sheâd not told anyone in Kingâs Landing what had been happening either. âIt doesnât matter.â It did not confirm or deny anything, but for some reason tears had sprung into the cornerâs of her eyes.












