“You make me sound like a stray he found beside the road.”
“You’re not a stray.” Dax tipped his head as he considered her. “You’re a person who has been dropped into a deeply complicated situation.”
Her eyebrows rose.
“That is comforting.”
“You are also fairly complicated.”
“Better.”
“I never promised comfort,” he said, and a restrained smile touched the corner of his mouth. “I am simply better company than Rhen.”
Veya gave a quiet snort, and the sound surprised her. It was small, genuine, and almost normal, as though laughter were a language she had not spoken in years and was only beginning to remember.
Dax noticed the shift without drawing attention to it.
“Leena would have made room for you,” he said.
Veya’s faint smile disappeared.
Dax did not dramatize the statement or push her to respond. He simply allowed it to remain between them as something he believed completely.
“That was what she did,” he continued. “She made space for people long before they knew how to ask for it.”
Veya looked across the garden toward the stronghold.
“Sule looked as though he wanted to tear the world apart.”
“He does.”
The lightness left Dax’s voice.
“He is still trying to be a father and a king while every part of him feels buried beside her. Norse needs him, the clan needs him, and we are all standing around waiting for him to become functional enough to lead us.”
“That sounds cruel.”
“It is, but the world rarely allows kings to grieve properly.”
Veya’s attention moved toward the high stone walls.
“And Rhen?”
Dax’s jaw tightened briefly.
“Rhen has always survived by turning everything into rules, distance, and violence. Leena’s death did not create that part ofhim, but it removed the one person capable of reaching through it.”
“Does he always treat people the way he treats me?”
“No.”
The answer came quickly enough to surprise her.
“Is that supposed to make me feel better?”
“It means the situation is new to him too. That does not excuse what he did or how he speaks to you.”
Veya stared at him.
