Rian smirks, unfazed. “I don’t need to believe in prophecies to know when someone is worth betting on.” He tilts his goblet slightly in my direction.
I feel Valen’s steady presence beside me. I don’t need to look to know what he’s thinking. He has always encouraged me to speak my truth.
And I have.
Then . . . there’s Thane.
I angle my head toward him to find him still watching me. He has barely reacted at all.
But I see it.
A flicker of something in his expression. Not surprise. Not quite approval. Something quieter—silent confidence. As if he expected nothing less from me.
The dinner draws to a close, conversation fading into a lull as the nobles rise first, their movements practiced, purposeful. Lord Toren and Lady Evelyne offer brief farewells before slipping from the hall.
The room exhales.
Rian, Jarek, Garrick, and Captain Elaris remain, their conversation loosening as they open another bottle of wine.
Valen pushes back his chair with a sigh, rubbing his face. “I’m an old man, and it’s past my bedtime.”
I laugh, shaking my head. “Goodnight, Valen.”
As I turn back to the table, his hand rests briefly on my arm. When I glance up, his expression is light, but his eyes hold something steadier.
“You did well tonight.” His voice is soft, but the weight of his words settles deep. Then his tone dips—dry, but not unkind.“And I’m sorry to say, there will be more of this soon.” He squeezes my arm once, a silent reassurance. “But I know you can handle yourself. And you’re not alone in any of this.”
And then, he’s gone, disappearing into the dimly lit corridors, leaving me with the echo of his words.
A quiet moment lingers at the table. The clink of goblets, the low murmur of conversation, the occasional chuckle from the men.
Then, Thane glances my way. “Would you care to take a walk?” His tone is even, but there is a forced casualness in it. Like the question isn’t just about fresh air.
The torchlight cuts sharp angles across his face.
“Yes,” I say without hesitation.
Thane rises, pushes back his chair. Without a word to the others, we leave the hall behind.
The stone pathways are quiet, the night air thick with the scent of damp earth and blooming wildflowers. Overhead, the sky is vast and clear, deep indigo flecked with stars. The torches along the outer walls flicker against the breeze, casting wavering beams of light across the ground.
Thane walks beside me, his hands linked behind his back. I cross my arms, letting the silence stretch. Not uncomfortable, just full of things unsaid.
I think about the dinner—the way the nobles watched, measured. Testing. Assessing. Waiting for me to falter.
Thane was right. They formed opinions whether I wanted them to or not.
Thane’s voice breaks the quiet. “You held your own tonight.”
Not a compliment. Just an observation.
I let out a slow breath. “I wasn’t sure what to expect.” I glance at him. “But I see it now—how they watch, how they weigh everything. Every word. Every action.”
Thane nods. “They were looking for weakness.”
“Did they find any?”
He looks at me then, eyes holding mine in the dim torchlight. “No.”
