The conversations around us died out like candles. The entire dining hall seemed to hold its breath.
I slowly set down my cup.
— "You came to finish what you started?"
Sylvara didn't answer right away. She folded her scaled, pale-fingered hands on the table, absently tracing the edge of the wood.
Her golden eyes locked on mine with unsettling intensity. Not hatred. Something worse — focus.
— "You talk too much with your fangs bared, human," she said calmly. "But this morning, I didn't come for a fight."
I raised an eyebrow, unmoving.
— "No? I thought that was your way of saying hello."
A faint twitch crossed her jaw. Not a smile — a micro-spasm. She held it in.
But Garrum didn't.
— "Watch your tongue, runt!" he growled, his voice making the cutlery tremble.
I didn't flinch. He stood behind her — predictable as always, a wall of muscle serving someone else's pride.
I turned my head just enough to meet his gaze.
— "I'm talking to your superior, not her shadow."
