[Lavinia's POV — Black Wall Fortress—Continuation]
Osric didn't move.
Not when I turned my back. Not when I told him to rest. Not even when the room exhaled with the weight of everything unsaid.
His voice followed me—low, tight, cracking at the edges. "Lavi… I don't trust him near you."
I froze mid-step.
For a moment, neither of us breathed. The faint candle on the war table flickered as if caught between us—caught between flames.
I pinched the bridge of my nose. "Osric… go rest."
He didn't.
Instead, he stepped toward me. Slow. Controlled. But his eyes—sharp and stormy—were anything but calm.
"Why won't you take this seriously?" he asked, jaw clenched.
"Because," I said evenly, "this is not the time for your jealousy."
His breath hitched—like I had slapped him.
"…Jealousy?" he whispered.
I turned to face him fully. "Yes. That."
His lips parted, but no sound came out. For once, the smooth, confident Grand Duke had no immediate words.
He swallowed hard. "Lavi… I'm not—"
