Raelana mentioned something about reinforcing the wards and slipped away quietly.
That left Jaenor sitting at the dining table with three women who mattered most in his life.
Emmanuelle sat at the head of the table, her posture relaxed now that the worst of her worry had passed. She'd sent the servants away, ensuring complete privacy. Her sharp eyes watched her grandson with a mixture of relief and lingering concern—he'd woken up, yes, but what had he become during those days of meditation?
Morgana sat to Jaenor's left, her hands wrapped around a cup of tea that had long since gone cold. She studied him with attention, noting the subtle changes. His eyes held depths they hadn't before. His presence felt different—not threatening, but definitely more substantial, as if he occupied more space than his physical form should allow.
