Mysterious

She saw it—the flicker of disappointment, frustration, perhaps even a flash of jealousy.

Oh, he hated that. Of course, he did. He had been watching her, hadn't he? Noticing how she spent more time with Cassian, how she drifted just far enough away from him that he had to chase her. She lowered her lashes, suppressing a knowing smirk. She just had to sit back and watch the show.

Benedict hated the word friend. It felt like a rejection, a dismissal—an insult that was masked in kindness. His entire life, people had treated him like a tool, a pawn in the great political game of the Empire.

His title, his influence, his strength—these were all things people wanted. And yet, when it came to real emotions, to true companionship, he was always pushed aside.

He had thought Annora was different. But now, she had said it. "You are such a good friend."