If she remained quiet, if she looked away, if she allowed this room to swallow her voice… then Lucavion's side of the board would move without her. He would never look back. He wouldn't be cruel. But he would no longer wait.
And the moment would pass.
She would remain a shadow in a dress.
But if she stepped forward now—
She wouldn't just be choosing Lucavion.
She would be becoming someone else.
She'd be renouncing the quiet survival that had defined her since her exile from Lucien's inner circle.
She'd be declaring that her silence was not submission.
'…You really played well, didn't you?' she thought, her fingers flexing slightly at her sides.
Not bitterly.
Not even begrudgingly.
Just… aware.
She hadn't understood that day in the Sanctum.
Not fully.
But now?
Now, as her gaze met his across the hall, something ancient and cold inside her cracked.
And something brighter stirred underneath.
She stepped forward.
Not grandly.
Not theatrically.
Just enough.
