Chapter 63 | Medea
"Why did you leave this single bolt?" I asked Medea, gripping it tightly in my hand. Its faint hum seemed to echo in my chest, the energy radiating from it both foreign and familiar—alive in a way that sent shivers down my spine.
Medea didn't even flinch. Her gaze remained fixed on the glowing runes etched into the walls, her fingers lightly tracing their delicate patterns. "I do not trust Alaric with something divine," she said flatly, her tone clipped and unbothered, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
"That's not an answer," Neal snapped. "If it's divine, why leave it? Why not take it with you to—"
Jayla cut in, her tone is as sharp as her claws. "And why exactly do you not trust your own king?" Her arms were crossed tightly over her chest, her tail flicking with agitation.