Sanria had gone to the cottage and begun putting her belongings into a pack. She tried to pack as he followed her around the room, reminding her of their vows, their family, and the fact they were learning to love one another in the midst of all of it. He halted her packing and took her shoulders in his hands, vehemently decrying Colin. He laid every emotion bare, including rage toward Colin. He, above all, would not let Sanria leave.
Through the night, Gilean kept a sleeping vigil, his arm protectively around Sanria. When she woke the following morning, her bag had been unpacked and everything put back in the places from which they'd been taken. Gilean wouldn't even let her propose talking to Colin or going anywhere near him. When that night fell, Sanria was again in Gilean's vigilant embrace.
She stared into the darkness, frowning. Gilean said he would be the one talking to Colin, and he was desperate. When Sanria asked what he was going to do, the chilling reply through gritted teeth was, "That depends on Colin. I'll do whatever I have to to keep this family together."
Sanria's greatest fear now was that one of the two men would end up dead or very wounded. It would be her fault. It was her fault. From the moment she took Enmach's advice to give up on Colin, to the moment she married Gilean, to the moment Colin became himself again and began to put the unyielding pressure on her to return, to now... where a proclaimed pacifist was ready to do battle.
She moved and Gilean's arm tightened reflexively. From his sleep he shook his head. Tomorrow... there would be eyes on her. They would ask her what she wanted. At least she presumed they would ask. The unfortunate thing was that "peace" was an answer neither would likely accept.
