The storm that had rumbled in the distance now poured over the palace roofs, muffling all but the hurried whispers exchanged beneath cloaks and over candlelit desks. In one of the lower rooms of the estate, Samuel stood guard outside Lucien's study, unusually tense. Inside, the air hung heavy with the residue of the day's court session.
Lucien leaned over the large map spread across the table. Red pins marked Petra. Black thread traced trade routes from the outer provinces. And over it all, a newly added name, written in Liora's graceful script, 'Elena Virelles,' now sat beside several names long assumed irrelevant.
Liora sat opposite him, still dressed in the gown from the court, her back straight despite exhaustion clinging to her like a second skin.
"You didn't have to defend me," she said quietly, her fingers clasped on her lap.
"I did," Lucien replied. He didn't look at her.
Silence stretched.
She broke it. "You believe me now?"
