Not my power, but my lack of control.
See, I could not yet wield it.
I could only hope to survive it.
“Did you know,” I said, stepping closer, lowering my voice just enough that it would not carry beyond us, “of all celestial bodies across all realms, it is the moon that holds the most power?”
Her expression still did not change.
But I felt her attention sharpen.
“It governs more than light,” I continued. “It touches everything. Magic. Blood. Growth. Decay. The tides of entire worlds rise and fall at its command.”
A beat.
“And I am expected to control that.”
I let the weight of it hang between us.
“So, here,” I finished, “I am only Sten. Do not forget it.”
Silence followed.
Until the whisper of her robes reached me where I stood.
“I will endeavor to remember,” she said smoothly, one brow arching ever so slightly as she moved to the far end of the corridor, “as you will remember to treat me with the respect due my position.”
I held her gaze for a long moment.
Then I inclined my head.
A deep bow.
One reserved for power that deserved recognition.
Because she was powerful.
That much I could not deny.
Runevald itself answered to her.
And that alone made her dangerous.
When I straightened, I did not linger.
I turned, offering her my back—a calculated risk, one I would not have taken with many others—and continued down the hall.
I could feel her watching me.
Assessing.
Measuring.
She always did.
I said nothing more.
Because there was nothing to say that would change the truth.
