Lost Creek Hollow una tortura perderte

"no," silvertongue gasped out, eyes widening and then going hot with glass melting into bitter salt, and the shame of it scorched her again. "no. and he will never know." a thing between women was their own, to share, to carry. now silvertongue felt her stomach lurch at the possibility that when she looked up toward akavir again, it would be sorrow he saw; for her; sorrow. pity. and she could not bear that. she trembled in wounded pride, refusing to sob as the silent tears fell. "he would only be hurt, more, more than he could bear," she breathed out once her lips had steadied themselves. "and above all i want no more pain for him." it was not for condolence now she searched the gilded eyes, but alliance, alliance in understanding that the greatest sacrifices of love were one borne in silence.