"You don’t like it?" he asked.
I clenched my fists, my voice cold. "Magnus, have you forgotten what that symbol means to me?"
He blinked, realization dawning on him. "Astrid, I—I'm sorry."
Memories crashed over me—memories of my mother’s death. I could still see the arrow piercing her heart, the blood staining the snow. And here Magnus stood, offering me an arrow pendant, as if he had never truly listened to anything I had told him.
How could he be so careless with my pain while so fiercely protecting Ingrid?
Asher had told me he had tried to kill Ingrid for my sake, but Magnus had fought to protect her. He had chosen her, defended her. Meanwhile, my suffering meant nothing to him.
"Astrid, why are you acting like this?" Magnus cupped my face, but I immediately pushed his hands away.
"I'm not angry," I said. My voice is void of emotion. "I just don’t feel well."
He looked confused, as if he truly didn’t understand what he had done.
"Come on, tell me what’s wrong," he insisted. "I haven't seen you in months. I had no idea what happened to you—"
"It’s fine, Magnus," I cut him off. "I can take care of myself."
I turned away, continuing to pack my things.