Chapter 21
TORIN
I hate public speaking. Always have. Give me a tactical problem to solve, a battle to fight, a crisis to navigate—fine. But standing in front of hundreds of people, being asked to inspire them with words?
Terrifying.
Through the bond, Zara sends me warmth. Confidence. The absolute certainty that I can do this. That we can do this.
I step forward, and she steps with me. Not following. Not leading. Beside me. Equal. Partner.
“Six months ago,” I begin, “I was drowning. Not in water—in grief. My sister died because our isolation prevented her from getting the medical treatment she needed. I was angry. Bitter. Convinced that opening up to surface-dwellers would only bring more pain.”
My eyes find Caspian in the crowd. He’s under guard but present, allowed to witness this moment as part of his sentence.
His expression is complicated—regret, pride, sorrow all mixed together.
We meet his gaze, and I nod slightly. Acknowledgment.
Forgiveness. Recognition that his path and mine weren’t as different as I’d like to believe.
“Then Zara crashed into my life,” I continue. “Literally. I pulled her from the river, and the bond ignited. I could have let her drown. Should have, according to everything I’d been taught. But I didn’t. I chose to save her. And that choice saved me.”