The ride back over the Nalvaq Sea had been virtually silent, the awful events of the day finally taking their toll. Nykin felt the rage simmering in Fimor. He knew Fimor tried to keep a rein on it, but it leaked out through their bond, too much for Fimor to contain. Nykin didn’t blame him. If he didn’t feel so utterly devastated at the loss of Eldin and Vashek, he would be just as angry. It bubbled below the surface of his grief, threatening to spill out as soon as he gave it a chance. Avelor fell asleep at some point during their journey, his arms locked tight around Nykin’s waist, and his head resting against Nykin’s shoulder. Nykin couldn’t think about what might be happening back at the palace. He’d never be able to get through these next few days if he did. His eyes began to drop closed, and he was just drifting off to sleep only to be jolted awake again by Fimor. “Nykin, we’re here.” His voice still had the hard edge from before.
