Teresa spoke in a flat, measured tone — her usual way of speaking, one that never gave more than necessary. But tonight her words were more than usual. About the corridor that smelled damp. About the cramped cell. About the thin man who tried to rise when the door opened and failed. About the wounds that were clear and deep even in such poor light.God Mervous listened without interrupting.Sitting on the edge of his bed with both hands on his knees, his eyes fixed on some nonspecific point on the floor, he absorbed every word Teresa said in a way that felt like someone weighing the burden of something he wasn't yet fully prepared to carry.Teresa told him how Edrick had asked about Kayrus, with eyes that still held hope even though his body barely had the strength to hold anything at all. How he closed his eyes upon hearing that Kayrus was fine, how a long breath came out of his cracked lips like something that had been held too long.How the man had said, I'm always fine in the end,

Libradon hadn't been awake long.Teresa knew that from the way her servants had startled when she asked for an immediate audience — from the way they exchanged glances with expressions that said this is unusual, this has never happened before without needing to say a single word. Teresa had never asked for an audience this early. Never come with steps this quick, with eyes this hard, at an hour when the sun hadn't even fully decided to rise.But they let her in.Of course they let her in.---Libradon was in his private chamber — not the great hall he usually used for formal audiences, but a smaller room where he ate breakfast and signed documents and did the things that needed no witnesses other than his closest servants.He was sitting with a cup of something steaming in his hand when Teresa entered — and one eyebrow rose slowly at the sight of his guest."Teresa." His tone hovered between surprise and amusement — a mix that was distinctly Libradon, one that never let anyone truly k