Three days after Lucian left Sol-Regis, the main workshop of Sudrath Tech in Iron Hearth remained alive twenty-four hours a day. But this morning, the atmosphere was different. Rianor arrived with a light step, fresh eyes, and a thin smile he couldn't hide.
Arvid, who was already at the drafting table, raised an eyebrow. "You look... refreshed."
"I slept last night," Rianor replied lightheartedly, picking up a missile sketch from the stack of papers. "Elara forced me. She said, 'A genius brain is useless if your eyes are sunken like a corpse.'" He mimicked Elara's voice with a slight exaggeration.
Hektor Torricelli, who had just entered through the back door, chuckled. "A good wife. Or fiancée. Or whatever she is now."
"Fiancée." Rianor smiled—a warm smile that rarely appeared on his face. "And she will be my wife after we take back Northveil."
