The wind did not die down after Draven spoke.
If anything, it sharpened.
Selara stood beside him on the balcony, the stone beneath her palms cold, grounding. Beyond the estate walls, the forest stretched into darkness quiet, vast, watching.
"For something that will not stay within them," she repeated softly.
Draven's gaze remained fixed on the tree line. "Lyanna doesn't waste words."
"No."
"And she doesn't bluff."
Selara swallowed that truth carefully. Lyanna was many things calculating, disruptive, bold but she was not reckless. If she mentioned loss, she had already measured the impact.
"You think she'll attack?" Selara asked.
"Not directly."
That unsettled her more.
"Then what?"
Draven's jaw tightened subtly. "She'll force a situation where we must choose."
"Between?"
"Power and protection."
The meaning settled heavily in Selara's chest.
