The conversation settled for a moment, the gentle clatter of carriage wheels filling the silence like the ticking of some patient, invisible clock.
It was Marian who broke it, voice light. "Well. Banquet or battlefield, I suppose they both serve their purpose. Still—tonight was something, wasn't it?"
Aurelian gave a dry snort. "Gilded peacocks performing rituals of dominance with wine and violins? Classic."
"No," Selphine said, tone measured. "It wasn't classic. Not this time."
The silence that followed Selphine's words was the kind that filled lungs instead of ears.
Aurelian leaned forward slightly, his casual posture gone. Dellen stopped chewing. Even the twins glanced up in sync, for once not theatrical but simply still.
Because they all understood what she meant.
Not classic. Not routine.
Because Lucavion existed.
