Neverwinter Forest Water from your broken iris fell toward the floor

Simmik had complete faith in Kynareth—faith that he would keep his promises, and faith that he would never lie to her. So she shook her head at Mal's accusation. No. He has already agreed not to hurt you, and I trust him to keep his word to me. Her expression remained cold as she fought off the guilt that beat at her protective walls. I am perfectly capable of handling whatever comes our way, and like I said before, he is no danger to me.

She tightened her jaws as he continued, the words sitting in her heart, heavy and searing like volcanic rock. They had been through a lot—she was supposed to be a part of his family; it was all too much. She didn't need this breaking her secretly still fragile armor. She had only started to form it as a way to protect her not so thick skin—especially where Mal was involved. 

On some level, she had always know Mal would die for her because she felt the same way and still did. Hearing him say it out loud was the final straw; the words cracked her icy exterior. Her face fell as tears threatened, stinging the corners of her eyes. She was sound in her decision, but she hated that it hurt Mal. The hurt was palpable and overwhelming. She wanted to reach out and comfort him, but she knew she couldn't. I'm sorry, Mal, she said softly. I never meant to hurt you. She gave a shaky sigh. But this is just how it has to be now.