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“Indeed, I maintained proper decorum during that whole exchange.”

Lora snorted before releasing Elowynn’s arm and moved to Alyra’s side, linking her fingers through hers. Alyra had turned her glinting expression on her partner, eyes softening.

“You threatened to academically dismember him while smiling like a court portrait,” Lora laughed.

Elowynn considered this for a brief moment before shrugging lightly. “That sounds like proper decorum to me.”

They all laughed then, and for a moment the Spire felt less like a political machine and more like a place where she had built something of her own.

That evening, after conversations of the demonstration had already begun its inevitable spread through gossip channels, Elowynn retreated to the upper western terraces with a glass of wine and the intention of avoiding everyone until morning.

Except Korvel Thorne found her within half a bell.

“You continue making enemies at an impressive pace,” he said as he stepped beneath the archway.

Elowynn took a long drink of her wine, but remained beside the stone rail overlooking Veylspire. One hand rested loosely against the cool stone frame while she looked upon the glow of the lower terraces shimmering far beneath the mountains. The terrace was cold at this height, mountain wind tugging at the loose strands of her hair, but the wine helped dull the chill.

“I prefer to think of it as clarifying relationships.”

Korvel had laughed in a quiet rumble.

He had changed little in five turnings. Still handsome in that polished, unreadable way and still more than capable of appearing wherever information could be garnered. He had, however, become thoughtful enough to make conversations feel more intimate yet he was careful enough that Elowynn never forgot he belonged to the machinery of Veylspire as much as any Council Archivist did.

Through the passing turnings, they had grown close. There had been dances, hands held a little longer than necessary, and quiet evenings spent in one another’s company. For a time, Elowynn had wondered whether their friendship might eventually become something more.

It never did.

Their conversations remained the truest part of whatever existed between them. The affection was real, but whenever they began to drift toward something deeper, Elowynn found herself pulling back.

Their closeness never became a true relationship, for Elowynn could never quite bring herself to offer her whole heart.

“You looked extraordinary this sun,” he said.

Elowynn finally glanced toward him, taking in his polished court attire.

Korvel wore a dark tailored coat layered over a charcoal observatory tunic, the fabric rich enough to catch the faint silver undertones whenever the terrace lanterns flickered. Intricate, geometric embroidery traced the high collar and cuffs of his coat in muted silver threads. He appeared elegant without becoming ostentatious. Even his dark hair with silver strands were combed to a perfect short style, and his gray eyes were attentive toward her.

“You sound as though you want something, Korvel,” Elowynn finally said, her voice calm.

A smile toyed along his lips. “Must admiration always carry motive?”

“In Veylspire?” she laughed breathlessly. “Yes.”

His smile deepened, and he bowed his head toward her. “Fair.”

Korvel moved beside her along the terrace railing, his eyes cast down toward the city below. The cold had sharpened the air enough to make every lantern appear brighter, every tower more defined against the night.

“The Frostfall Gala is in two moons,” Korvel said.

“I am aware.”

A brief silence hovered between them before Korvel turned to look at her. “You've not accepted any invitation.”

Elowynn took another slow sip of wine before meeting his gaze. In her heels, she stood slightly taller than him, which she found rather annoying. She had found she preferred her men taller.

“I have been busy,” she said at last.

It was no excuse. They both knew she truly was busy. But not so busy that she could absent herself from the gala. Attendance was expected of her.