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Lunara knew that. At least, that was what she wanted to believe.

Still, her shoulders tightened at the memory

You’re about to find out one way or another. Isn’t it better to just get it over with?

Right. She simply had to do it. Easy.

Before she could linger too long on the what-ifs, Lunara spun.

Weeping moons. Of course he’d chosen morning to wake, when Solyrian’s light was at its sweetest and caressed him just so. It burned in his auburn waves and hazel irises, glowed over his olive skin, glinted off his obsidian horns.

Beautiful.

Tears blurred her vision, and Lunara had to force her words through the lump in her throat. “Oh, Brand.”

It was everything she could do not to cry even harder when one side of his mouth curled up.

“Hello, darling,” he rumbled, voice gravelly with sleep.

Lunara twisted onto her knees and reached out, desperate for contact. To feel the life in him beneath her fingertips.

He flinched.

Just a twitch of the muscles under his eyes, the slightest backwards movement, but it was enough.

She swallowed and let her hand fall, gathering the silken linens to her chest as if they could shield her from all the uncertainty. Never in her wildest dreams did she expect their reunion to be so…so…

Awkward.

At best.

“Have I pleased fate so well that she would send me such a gift upon rising?” Brand perused her, head tilting to one side as his nostrils flared. “You might be the loveliest creature I’ve ever seen.”

The staccato beat of Lunara’s heart stuttered when he smiled fully, her brows pinching. She was beyond tempted to ignore the alarm bells pealing, but⁠—

Darling?

Brand never once called her that.

Not to mention that ‘might’ part.

True. He was quite insistent that she was perfect.

That’s when she noticed it. No crinkles at the corners of his eyes. No joy. No recognition.

He…still doesn’t know you. At all.

The question was why.

Lunara clenched her teeth, fighting a rising scream. How dare her heart shatter in silence? She deserved to hear the brittle, violent crack. The deafening storm as it flew apart. The individual crash of every piece hitting the ground.

The whole world should have been subjected to it.

It’s not his fault.

No, it wasn’t. The mind had funny ways of protecting itself when the agony became unbearable.

You would know.