Page 41 of The Moonborn's Curse
No.
The girl was more than that. She was a shield between them, a wall-built brick by brick.
Seren swallowed. Her fingers tightened around the strap of her bag before she reached inside, feeling the worn fabric beneath her fingertips. Slowly, hesitantly, she pulled it out.
A blanket.
She had spent over a year making it, weaving stories into the embroidery - wolves running beneath silver moons, mountains rising in the distance, a story only for him. Every stitch had been careful, deliberate. A gift.
For him.
She took a step forward.
"Hagan," she said softly. "I made this for you."
The moment stretched.
His expression did not change. She could not read his thoughts, could not feel anything of his thoughts except for conflict-raw and biting.
And then he turned.
Not towards her.
Towards the girl next to him.
Something passed between them-unspoken but clear. When he looked back at Seren, his gaze was different. Hard. Cold.
Hostile.
The girl's fingers tightened around his hand.
He didn't reach for the blanket at first. The silence thickened. The air grew heavy.
The carefully constructed dream inside Seren twisted painfully.
Then, finally, as if only to end the awkwardness, he reached out and took it from her.
He didn't look at it.
Didn't touch the embroidery, didn't trace the careful stitches.
Instead, his mouth curled. His voice was low, edged with something ugly.
A single, derogatory remark.
"This looks like it'd be better suited for scrubbing floors."
Seren flinched.
A sharp crack of disapproval split the air.
"Hagan."
His father's voice - Draken. A single word, filled with anger.
Hagan's shoulders hunched. His mother's expression was worse-disappointment, quiet and cutting.
Seren saw the way his shoulders went rigid, the way his fingers clenched in frustration. He exhaled sharply, jaw working, then muttered through gritted teeth-
