This time the reaction cannot be contained. It moves through the court in a low swelling surge.
Then his attention turns to me.
"For those who have not yet been given the courtesy of clarity," he says, his voice cutting cleanly through the room, "this is Asharin of Veynar. Queen Heir of Alarna."
The silence sharpens.
"My son did not take a wife," he continues. "He chose his equal.” He looks around the room. “And you will conduct yourselves accordingly."
Jessamy’s name does not linger. It ends here. Something in my chest eases. The room goes back to what it was, the music resuming and guests once again mingling.
A moment barely passes before a man approaches, moving quickly and with purpose, Arabar at his side. Something in their expressions changes the air around us before either of them speaks.
"My lord," the man says, his voice low and urgent. "We have word from the high pass."
Colsar straightens. "Speak."
"They have found the tunnel entrance," Arabar says. "They are holding position, but movement has begun along the outer ridge. If we are going to extract them, it must be soon."
My stomach pulls tight.
Colsar nods once, already thinking ahead of the words. "We proceed. Quietly. And we must be certain the tunnel holds."
Arabar hesitates. "We may need to adjust the route. The terrain has shifted. If we move forward as planned we risk exposure."
"Then we find another way. I will review it tonight. I want a decision by dawn."
"Yes, Majesty.”
They step back. Colsar turns to the Sovereign, his voice already shifting. "Father, I must?—"
The Sovereign lifts a hand, cutting him off with a knowing look. "This you must take care of, Colsar. There is no doubt." His eyes move briefly to me, then back. "Go."
Something twists in my chest.
I understand. Of course I do. Rorin and his men matter. Everything Colsar told me still sits heavy and real inside me. And yet the thought of him leaving me again, even now, even after everything we just said to each other, moves through me before I can stop it.
Before I can think further, his hand closes around mine. "Come," he murmurs. No hesitation in it. He speaks briefly to an attendant as we pass, something low and quick I do not catch, and then we are moving again, away from the table and toward the exit.
Enovar catches my eye as we pass. He winks. Kentan does not move. He only watches, his expression holding briefly before easing into a faint smile. I feel it, a brief pull, and let it pass.
We leave.
The corridors feel quieter now, the energy of the ballroom fading behind us until there is nothing left of it but distant sound.
By the time we reach our chambers the stillness has returned fully.
"Saurin took them," I say, glancing toward the adjoining space.
“Then we have the night,” he replies. He lights another candle, the flame catching slowly and casting warm light across the room. Then he turns back to me, his hands finding my dress and sliding the fabric from my shoulders, slower this time, the movement unhurried in a way that feels more grounding than urgent, as though he is drawing me back into something real.
A knock sounds at the door.
He does not step away for long. When he returns he carries a tray and a small stack of papers, setting them beside the bed.
"What is that?" I ask, though part of me already knows.
"Work," he says simply.
