Page 86 of A Court of Thralls and Thorns

But silence wrapped its callous chains,

and not a single sound was stirred.

Do you not see the scars I bear?

The weight of battles fought alone?

Yet still, you turn—unyielding, cold?—

a heart encased in walls of stone.

If I were worthy, would you stay?

Or is this fate a hollow bond?

A tether frayed by fate’s cruel hand,

a dream I reach for, yet beyond?”

The room fell silent as Cordelle finished reading. I stared at my hands, feeling the words sink into my skin like something tangible.

“Damn,” Jax muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “That was... heavy.”

Cordelle shrugged, but there was something in his eyes. “Not all stories are about victory.”

I couldn’t argue with that.

The silence after Cordelle’s poem lingered, as weighty as a storm about to break. His fingers traced the worn edges of his book, eyes distant, lost somewhere far beyond our small, dimly lit room.

Riven was the first to speak, her voice soft, careful. “What’s the story behind that poem?”

Cordelle’s jaw tensed. He closed the book but didn’t look up. “It’s about loss.”

We waited, giving him the space to continue if he wanted to. After a moment, he exhaled, his voice quiet. “My mother was murdered in the castle ten years ago.”

A chill crawled up my spine. I sat forward. “Murdered?”

Cordelle nodded. His fingers clenched around the book like he wanted to crush it. “I begged her to stay home that day. I told her I wasn’t feeling well, and that I needed her.” His throat bobbed, but his face was unreadable. “She said she had responsibilities, that she couldn’t shirk them.”

A muscle ticked in his jaw. “She never came back.”

The room felt too small, the weight of his words pressing in on all of us.

“Did they find out who did it?” I asked.

Cordelle gave a hollow laugh, shaking his head. “My father tried, but… she was a commoner. You know how it is.”

I did.

Naia let out a slow breath. “They just let it go.”

Cordelle lifted his gaze to meet mine, and for the first time, I saw the quiet fury in his pale-blue eyes. “That’s the thing about the nobility, isn’t it?” he murmured. “They decide whose deaths matter.”

I squeezed Cordelle’s hand, offering him what little comfort I could. “She would be so proud of you, Cordelle.” My voice was soft, willing him to believe it. “I know I am.”

He gave me a small, grateful smile, one that reminded me of a younger brother I never had. It wasn’t much, but I could see the tension in his shoulders ease just a little.

The moment was swiftly interrupted when Ferrula sat on her bed. And the rest of us returned to our own. She pulled back her covers without a word, but before she could climb in, Jax patted the empty space beside him with a grin.