*Lynn*
I held Aldith on her bed as she sobbed into my shoulder. Calix stood nearby, his eyes cast in shadows. People streamed in and out of the little room, speculating what had happened, but we knew. How could we not?
Aldith still held the small strip of cloth that was torn from Clara’s dress, blood coating the fabric. There was a stain on the wall, looking as if she was thrown against it, her head smashing against the rough stone. There was so much blood I didn’t see how she could’ve survived.
But Aldith wouldn’t let me say the words that she was gone. The spy had found her when she was alone and vulnerable and killed her, running off with her body to Dryden to show off his success.
Calix couldn’t find the words either. His face was stern, hands tightened into fists at his sides. The dim candlelight showed the exhaustion on his face. It looked as if he hadn’t slept in days.