Lance stepped forward, but he didn't say or do anything. His mere presence was enough—a silent promise of assurance to Isolde.
Though he had never once spoken the words aloud, she knew, instinctively, that he was prepared to protect her life if things went awry, no matter the cost.
What she didn't know, however, was that his protection had been arranged entirely by Selaphiel.
She spoke.
"Nothing gave me the authority."
Siegfried frowned, his body surging faintly with mana. A quiet tension shimmered in the air.
Lance mirrored him, mana rising to meet the moment, though his stance betrayed a lack of the same confidence. He wasn't Siegfried, and he knew it.
Before the situation could teeter into outright conflict, Isolde continued, her voice smooth but edged.
"But someone did."
Siegfried blinked.
"Huh?"
The elf stopped, his posture stiffening slightly, his sharp eyes narrowing in thought. He studied her, oddly. That phrasing. That subtle shift. It bothered him.
