"You have Kaelion's ear. That terrifies them."
Elira sighed. "It should terrify me. He's powerful enough to destroy this entire court if he wanted to."
"But he didn't destroy you."
Elira met Lysa's eyes in the mirror. "No. And that's what scares him."
Meanwhile, In Kaelion's Strategy Room
Kaelion stood with General Vaelith and Commander Rhun over a large war map, but his mind kept drifting back to the gallery—back to her.
"She's weaving them in," Vaelith said without preamble. "Like a harpist drawing music from wire. You underestimated her."
Kaelion didn't respond.
"She doesn't want power," Rhun added. "But she's using it better than most who do."
"She's too trusting," Kaelion said. "One of them will stab her eventually."
"Then maybe you should teach her how to use a blade," Vaelith said. "Or better yet—let her hold yours."
Kaelion gave her a dry look. "I don't share my weapons."
"Are you sure?" Vaelith smirked. "Because you already gave her your court."
That Night, Moon Terrace
The moon hung low, casting a silver glow across the palace gardens. Elira leaned on the stone railing, arms wrapped around herself. Kaelion joined her silently.
"I saw you today," he said. "Handling them."
"You let me," she replied, eyes still on the moon. "That was the real surprise."
"You earned it."
Elira turned toward him. "And yet, they still smile with knives behind their teeth."
"They always will. Politics here is like a duel. If you hesitate, you bleed."
She tilted her head. "Have you bled?"
He didn't answer at first.
Then, quietly: "Yes. Just once. And I never let it happen again."
Elira reached out, her fingers brushing his. He didn't pull away.
"You can trust me."
"I don't know how."
"Then let me teach you."
He looked at her for a long time—long enough that the silence said everything.
"I'm not soft, Elira."
"I don't want soft," she said. "I want real."
His hand closed around hers at last. Warm. Steady. Dangerous.
But not cold anymore.