Sawtooth Spire But the bruises on your ego make you go wild, wild, wild

Maybe Mahler didn't realize how deeply his words before had cut her. In the absence of her own fire, she was halfway to expecting that it was her turn to be burned. He'd certainly sounded like he was through with her before, comparing their relationship to a contract, claiming she made him feel lower than anyone else. Her breath was held tight in her lungs while she waited for the inevitable, "but..."

It never came. Mahler folded around her, embraced her even after they'd torn one another to pieces and left one another bereft, and she choked and crumbled against his strong chest. It was so unlike her to cry so openly in front of anyone, but lately he drew tears from her easily. The weight of everything—Thade's disappearance, Phaedra's distance, Mahler's duty and pride, Tiercel's biting words, the loathing that threatened to swallow her each and every day—came pouring out of her as she shuddered in his embrace.

He's g-gone, she gulped wretchedly, isn't he? Not just missing, but well and truly beyond their reach.