The night settled heavily over the estate, but the silence did not bring peace. It carried awareness.
Selara stood on the balcony outside Draven's chambers, the cool air pressing against her skin while her thoughts refused to settle. Below, the estate lay quiet too orderly after the unrest in the gardens, too composed after the challenge in the arena. Stability had returned on the surface.
But she could feel it.
A shift.
Draven stepped out behind her, his presence filling the space before he even spoke. He did not touch her immediately. He simply stood beside her, looking out over the territory that was his to protect.
"You handled the arena well," he said at last.
It wasn't praise.
It was evaluation.
Selara did not look at him. "I had to."
"Yes."
That single word held weight.
She turned to him now. "She wanted that."
"Of course she did."
Draven's gaze remained steady, but there was something colder beneath it tonight. Not jealousy. Not irritation.
Calculation.
