The scholar wept quietly, her shoulders trembling as her head bowed low. She wiped at her tears with a trembling hand, the memory of the incident playing over and over in her mind—vivid, merciless.
Guilt twisted within her like a blade, and she cursed herself for her helplessness, for doing nothing when Roderick needed her most.
Rationally, she knew the truth: there had been nothing she could have done. She wasn't a warrior, not the emperor's formidable right hand like Roderick, who had fought with Emperor Kaan, buying precious moments that no one else could have.
If she had intervened, she would have only gotten in the way. Her presence might have hastened the outcome, adding another body to the fallen and another weight on Roderick's already impossible burden.
But logic did little to ease the ache. The guilt was relentless, a storm she couldn't quiet.
