Page 202 of The Moonborn's Curse
He stepped closer, heavy boots soundless on the stone floor, and stood before her with his head bowed.
He opened his mouth. Closed it.
Tried again.
"I'm sorry," he said softly. "Lunara."
It was the first time he'd called her that. Acknowledged who she was always meant to be.
A Fang was the Lunara's shield. He hadn't been doing the job he was born to do.
He was different now. Quiet. Almost eerily so. He didn't fidget the way he used to. He hardly moved at all. Sometimes it seemed like he hardly took a breath.
His colouring was the opposite of the others—where Hagan and Veyr were shadow and smoke, Dain was sunlight. Soft blond hair curled in soft waves streaked with auburn. Freckles, so at odds with the rest of him, dusted the bridge of his nose and cheekbones.
Seren's eyes narrowed, her unblinking stare pressing against him.
He seemed to hesitate again before saying "My mistakes were unforgivable," he said, voice low. "But maybe... in time..."
His hazel eyes, lit with regret and something like hope, finally met hers. He nodded once stiffly, as if resigned, like he already knew the answer to how silent question.
Seren's expression didn't soften. Not outwardly. But she could see what lies had cost him—how they'd carved hollows beneath his eyes, turned his silence into a kind of penance.
The wind carried whispers to her.
Guilt. Shame. Regret. Resolve.
She looks different.
Harder. Sharper. She doesn't shrink —not from anyone. Definitely not from me.
Good.
How could I have been so blind?
His fingers curled slightly at his sides. Dain gave a single, barely-there nod. His hazel eyes flicked up to meet hers, full of things he didn't yet know how to say.
He was about to turn away when her voice reached him again, light as a breeze.
"Have you had breakfast?" she asked casually, not looking directly at him, as if it were a passing comment on the weather.
He blinked.
Was that...?
"We have to go to the borders," she continued and took another sip of her tea as if she hadn't just thrown him a rope.
Before he could process it, Hagan glanced up and caught her meaning. He shifted slightly, making space beside him and gesturing toward the empty spot at the table.
"Sit," he said simply.
Something warm broke across Dain's face—uncertain, unguarded. He nodded jerkily.
Then he turned and lifted a hand in signal.
From near the doorway, a soft rustle of skirts and hesitant footsteps.
A girl approached—young, slight, with wide doe-brown eyes and a soft fall of ash-blonde hair. She carried herself with a kind of nervous grace, clutching a scarf in one hand until Dain reached for her. She took his hand, then glanced at the table with shy apprehension.
