{Elira}
~**^**~
Rennon must have noticed the way my shoulders had gone tight after Zenon's remark, because when Lennon leaned back in his seat, it was he who cut across gently.
"He didn't mean it as harsh as it sounded," he said, his gaze steady on me.
I toyed with the edge of my plate. "It felt harsh," I muttered, not caring that Zenon could help me.
"That's Zenon," Rennon replied, quiet but confident. "He trims words down to the bone. But what he meant was—don't waste yourself on worries you can't change. Save your strength for what you can."
Something in my chest loosened. With Rennon, words never felt like decoration. They settled clearly and true, and somehow steadied me. So, I gave him a small nod.
When we finished eating, I stood automatically, gathering the plates, as I had already made up my mind to wash them after dinner.
