š.š: Buried dreams
A few hours later. . .
šir Caldre was quiet company, and yet Elysia found his presence oddly comforting. After the tea session with King Zachary, he had offered to escort her to her next lessons and then back to her chambers.
He didn't hover, but his steady steps echoed beside hers, just close enough to remind her that he was, indeed, a guard. A silent, watchful one with a stiff spine and a sharp jawline, thank you very much.
His presence was solidāunshakeable, like a cornerstone set in place. The kind of person who wouldn't falter, wouldn't betray. The kind of person who stood exactly where he was supposed to stand, even in the face of chaos.
For some reason, that steadiness made her feel... safe.
But she wouldn't let him know that, of course.
"Soā¦" she began, the hush of the palace hallway pressing around them, broken only by the soft clink of her heels on marble. "Do you always look like you've swallowed a rulebook whole?"
