"Talk to me," he murmured. "Or… show me."
Her hands moved shakily; the signs were stuttered and unsteady.
"The cottage. She… she locked me in. Again and again. There was no light. Only heat and pain and silence."
Cassian felt something rip inside him. The thought of her—so small, so alone, so hurt—made him want to destroy every wall that had ever contained her suffering.
But instead, he reached forward and cupped the side of her face, steadying her.
"You're not in that cottage anymore," he said, his voice low and sure. "You're here. With me. And I will never let that happen to you again."
Lyra looked at him, chest still rising and falling with shallow breaths, the panic ebbing slowly from her veins.
Cassian tucked a strand of damp hair behind her ear, then pulled her gently back toward him. She resisted for only a moment before collapsing into his embrace, her face pressed to the warm curve of his neck.
