When Valerian told Aurelia that he would tell her everything—without withholding a single truth—she studied his face for a long moment, as if weighing the promise itself.
"Gwen," she said finally, her voice steady despite the fatigue clinging to it, "could you bring us something warm to drink?"
Gwen bowed at once, relief flickering across her features. She understood what her lady was truly asking for—not just tea, but privacy. "Of course, my lady."
Gwen bowed, understanding at once, and quietly withdrew, careful to give them both privacy.
She moved quietly, closing the door behind her with deliberate care.
The door closed softly behind Gwen, the sound muted but final, leaving the chamber steeped in a hush broken only by the steady crackle of the hearth. Firelight danced across stone walls and tall shelves lined with scrolls and ledgers, casting long shadows that stretched and recoiled like living things.
