"Master Magnus," he said, addressing his examiner without breaking eye contact with the assembled gathering. "Ensure our court remembers their manners."
The dismissal was unmistakable. The entertainment was over. Anyone who continued this line of challenge would face him directly.
It was done.
As they moved toward the hall's exit, he noted that the thief matched his pace without hurrying, never rushing, never fleeing. She grasped the importance of maintaining a composed facade.
She learns fast. Too fast, maybe.
The corridor offered relative privacy, though ears could still be listening. Servants had excellent hearing when gossip was valuable. Without speaking, he guided her toward the west alcove with a subtle gesture. There were fewer potential eavesdroppers, and the architecture provided natural sound dampening.
Once they reached the alcove's shadows, she began to pace within the space, arms crossed tightly across her chest. Holding herself together through sheer will. Her frustration was evident as she glanced out at the courtyard through the tall windows. Beyond the glass, dark stone pathways and silver fountains intertwined beneath the eternal twilight, a stark contrast to the storm clearly brewing inside her.
He recognized the signs. Adrenaline crash after confrontation, rage, and humiliation held in check until privacy allowed release.
She was quiet for a long moment before finally speaking, and when she did, her words were controlled but laced with anger. "That was more than just politics."
"Yes." No point in pretending otherwise. She was too intelligent for comfortable lies.
"She wasn't just questioning my competence. She was questioning whether you're compromised by working with me." Her analysis cut straight to the point, her eyes narrowing as she stopped to face him. "Personal."
He studied her, noting the way her jaw clenched with suppressed emotion. "Your assessment?"
"She sees me as a threat. Not just professionally, but personally as well." Her arms dropped to her sides, hands forming fists, then flexing as if trying to release the frustration bottled inside her. "The question is how far she'll escalate."
Correct analysis. Morwyn had been circling for decades, building her claim through proximity and expectation. The thief's arrival and his clear favor toward her had disrupted long-laid plans.
Dangerous combination: wounded pride and thwarted ambition.
"She won't get the opportunity."
Something in his tone made her stop pacing and look at him directly.
"What does that mean?"
He found himself studying her. Seeing the emotion that hadn't been visible during the hall confrontation, the way she'd held her ground.
The vulnerability she was showing him now, in private, that she'd never show them.
"It means challenging you was a mistake she won't make again."
The words came out more definitive than he'd intended. More possessive.
She was quiet for a moment, her gaze searching his with unsettling intensity, looking for something. The faint tremor in her fingers betrayed the calm she was trying to project.
"I had it handled," she said, and the determination was genuine. Fierce. She believed it.
"I know." It was the truth. He'd seen her dismantling of the previous challenger, watched her identify weaknesses and exploit them. She could have handled Morwyn too, given time. "But you shouldn't have to."
The words surprised him even as he said them. Her comfort had become more important than politics. Protecting her from assault had become instinctive rather than strategic.
He'd started thinking of her as his to protect.
She looked up at him, her expression softening as the anger melted away, replaced by something that tightened his chest. Vulnerability. Trust. Something dangerously close to affection.
His shadows stirred restlessly, wanting to reach for her. He held them back through the effort of will.
"We should turn in," he said finally, forcing practicality into his tone. "Tomorrow brings another crisis."
