Thirty minutes of silence. One thousand and eight hundred seconds of sitting beside a man she was supposed to marry, neither of them speaking, neither of them looking at each other.
Vessara's hands were clasped in her lap, her fingers twisting together in a nervous rhythm she couldn't stop.
Vael drove with his attention fixed on the road, his face a mask of disinterest. His grip on the steering wheel was firm and controlled. His shoulders were tense. And he didn't glance at her once.
Vessara's throat felt tight. She couldn't take the silence anymore.
"I didn't expect you to come yourself." The words burst out of her mouth, too fast and too loud. She almost winced.
Vael's eyes didn't leave the road. "Why?" He asked.
"Well." She swallowed. "I thought the council members were supposed to pick me."
The corners of his mouth twitched. "I am the one who has to bring you to Nightwalker."
"Oh." She nodded, her curls brushing against her bare shoulders. "Right. Of course."
Silence.
