All Eldrossi.
They shifted, unease creeping into their posture, shame flickering across their faces.
At the edge of the hall, Wiren and the other soldiers watched, their expressions unreadable.
Halverton glanced toward them, certain of their allegiance, assured of his position as long as they were present.
Aoife wasn’t so sure.
She turned back to the remaining staff.
“You’ll be welcome among us,” she said.
Her voice was gentler now, but no less firm.
“We aren’t the savages he claims we are.”
She gestured toward the people already gathered behind her.
“Look at them. Your colleagues. Your friends.”
James shifted his weight from one foot to the other. He stood behind Halverton, caught between worlds. Another small push and he’d change sides; she was certain of it.
Aoife held out her hand to him.
“He won’t hurt you again,” she said. “We won’t let him.”
James hesitated.
His gaze flicked to Halverton.
To the others.
Back to Aoife.
He stepped forward. He took only five paces before Halverton moved, seizing James by the arm and dragging him back.
“You are Eldrossi,” he snapped. “You cannot go live among these savages.”
James’ shoulders were tight, braced. He didn’t flinch as he made eye contact with Halverton.
“If you can tell me my name, my lord,” he said. “I’ll stay.”
Halverton’s jaw worked.
Once.
Twice.
Nothing came.
Outside, the lash cracked again, cutting clean through the stillness and Aoife’s heart. This was taking too long.
“His name is James,” Aoife said.
James turned toward her and smiled. A small, certain smile.
Halverton’s face twisted.
