The crackling fire in the chamber felt distant, swallowed by the weight of silence. The shattered remains of the chair's armrest crumbled between Duke Thaddeus' fingers, yet he did not move. Did not speak.
Aeliana's words had struck.
More than anything before—more than her sharp defiance, more than her return from the abyss, more than the sea's impossible silence—this.
This was what threatened to break his control.
His most trusted aide.
His handpicked guardian.
The woman he had entrusted with Aeliana's life—had been the very one to betray her.
Madeleina.
The weight of that name burned in his mind.
Aeliana's smirk did not falter. If anything, it deepened, watching her father with unrestrained satisfaction.
He was furious.
She could see it.
The barely contained rage.
The way his mana flickered, unseen but undeniable. The way his shoulders squared, the way his fingers—normally controlled, composed—tightened until his knuckles turned white.
And yet, he said nothing.
