Swiftcurrent Creek neck full of mockingbirds, all calling your name

Wren, too, had begun to feel the spark of defensiveness light inside of her. I didn't say that, Akavir, her eyes, firm and yet melting at the same time as they bore into him. look, if she makes you happy, then that's-- I'm not gonna insert myself into that any more than I'm sure I already have. I want you to be happy, and as hard as she'd tried to hold herself steady, there's a crack; a crack, one in her voice, one that slowly worsens and causes everything to wobble. it's-- it's fine. I don't care. All I wanted was for you to know. About all of this. I don't want to screw this up anymore.
She could have yelled. She could have tore into him about the mixed signals, the chase, the tension that she'd only found relief for in lonely nights and muffled sounds; she could have told him how sorry she was that her feelings were just so inconvenient for him and his new toy. She could have lamented her sorrows about Silvertongue, about how little even she understood of the dance that had gone on between them.
But she doesn't. Because that didn't matter anymore.
And slowly, the hurt is swallowed and locked in the cellar of her heart. I'm-- I'm gonna go lay down. I'm sorry. I'll see you tomorrow.