Malrik POV

My eyes drifted to my aunt.

Dashira sat perfectly still, her wine glass untouched, hands folded neatly in her lap. Poised. Regal. Silent almost unnervingly so.

Her gaze met mine first, then slid to Dravina.

“You move quickly, Malrikarion. No time wasted,” she said at last, her voice unreadable.

I didn’t answer. I simply held her stare, unblinking.

She studied me for a long heartbeat before something in her expression shifted a subtle softening, barely perceptible but ...