Valeria didn't speak.
She couldn't—not yet.
Lucavion's words lingered in the air, weighty and absolute, and they didn't leave space for rebuttal or dismissal. Not because he'd silenced her, but because he'd cracked something open.
Not in the room.
In her.
'Is that… the kind of person he is?'
She looked at him—really looked—and the feeling returned. That weightless clarity from earlier. Except now, it wasn't comfort.
It was disquiet.
Not fear. But caution. Unease wrapped in awe.
Because Lucavion didn't say those things for attention. He didn't throw them like knives to cut indiscriminately. Everything he'd just said—every single word—had a purpose behind it. A target. A reason.
And that, more than anything, made her pause.
Because she knew him.
He was reckless, yes. Unfiltered. Brazen in ways that would make even the bolder lords sweat. But he wasn't careless.
Not when it mattered.
