Fox's Glade jalada

"i thought it best to call you here," silvertongue said. her throat felt thick, her limbs heavy. his touch, desperate as she was for it, did not silence her spirit's crying. and so she forced herself into steadiness, into some semblance of who and what she was. "what has akavir told you?" for she worked now beneath the assumption that there was something shared, some judgement in arric waiting to show itself.