Caelan POV
The main hall empties too quietly.
No verdict is delivered because our alliance was signed and solid already. No decree read aloud, no closing ritual needed to be spoken to give the illusion of resolution — only the soft scrape of stone doors against their frames and the uneasy awareness that nothing here has ended, only paused, suspended like a held breath that will eventually demand release.
I remain where I am, hands clasped behind my back, posture steady, gaze fixed forward, refusing to look at the councilors as they leave.
Instead, I watch who hesitates. Three of them do. Not at me, or at Rourke.
At Elara.
Their gazes slide toward her like hands that know better than to touch. Measuring, weighing, lingering just a moment too long, as though she is a shape they half-re
