Not now.
The days between the phone call and the funeral stretched strangely, elastic and unreal.
Alaric moved through them with practiced efficiency, but the sense of time itself had loosened, as if the world were refusing to move at a normal pace out of deference or cruelty. He signed where he was told to sign. He answered questions that were simultaneously urgent and meaningless. He made decisions that would ripple outward through the family for years to come, and all of it happened against the quiet awareness of Sera moving through the house besidehim.
She didn’t crowd him.
She didn’t retreat either.
Instead, she existed in that narrow space that required an almostpainful level of attention to maintain. Close enough to touch. Far enough not to presume. He noticed it every time he turned and found her already there, already waiting, already holding herself steady as if she understood exactly how fragile the moment was and refused to crackit.
At one point, he found himself standing at the kitchen counter, staring at a glass of water he hadn’t yet lifted. His fingers curled around it without tightening. He was aware of the way the light from the window fell across the surface, refracting into faint prisms against the stone.
“You should drink something,” Sera said softly.
Not an order. Not concern sharpened into insistence. Just a fact offered without pressure.
He lifted the glass and took a swallow. The water was cold. Grounding.”Thank you,” he said, because it mattered to acknowledge the care even if he couldn’t absorb it fully.
She nodded and moved away again, leaving him space without withdrawing her presence. It was a skill. One he was painfully aware not everyone possessed.
The house filled gradually. Staff. Family representatives. People who knew when to be seen and when to disappear. The familiar pressure of the Severinmachine began to engage, legacy and expectation sliding into place aroundhim.
And still, Sera remained the only thingreal.
He found that realization unsettling. Dangerous, even. He had spent his life ensuring that no single person could become the fulcrum on which everything else balanced. And yet, here she was, stabilizing him without trying, simply by refusing to leave his orbit.
He caught himself watching her more than once. The way she folded her hands when she stood still. The way she inhaled carefully, as if reminding herself to remain calm. The way she avoided looking at him directly for too long, not because she was afraid of what she might see, but because she understood that holding his gaze right now might demand more than he couldgive.
Guilt pressed sharp and unwelcome into his chest.
This was not how it should have been. Especially not now. The days leading up to the funeral should have belonged to grief and family alone, not to carefully maintained distance and words left unsaid. He should have taken her aside. Should have insisted on privacy. On addressing what lay fractured between them before legacy and expectation crushed everythingelseflat.
He hated that this moment with her felt stolen, provisional, as if it existed only in the margins of a larger crisis. Hated that even now, with his father gone, he couldn’t give her what she deserved.
But his thoughts wouldn’t stay there.
They slid, inexorably, toward the reason everything else had been deferred.
Vidar.
Always Vidar.
Even now, the man’s shadow hovered at the edge of Alaric’s thoughts, because Vidar continued to make it clear he wanted Sera removed. That threat, unspoken but unmistakable, kept forcing itself between Alaric and every other priority hehad.
When they finally moved toward the door to head to the church, the shift was immediate. Alaric reached for his coat out of habit, then paused as Sera stepped closer and held it for him. Their fingers brushed for half a second as he took it fromher.
The contact was brief. Accidental. Electric.
They both stilled.
For one suspended heartbeat, the world narrowed to the space between them. Alaric was acutely aware of thewarmth of her hand, the steadiness of her breathing, the way her gaze flicked up to his and then away again.
He wanted to pull herin.
The impulse was sharp and visceral. To drag her close. To attach himself in something that wasn’t shifting beneath hisfeet.
He did nothing.
