Seraphina's perspective, first person.
A week later.
It had been a week.
A full week since Darien had stood before us, calm, unwavering and asked to become my personal guard.
And a full week since Elias had refused to give an answer.
"I will consider it," he had said.
He had yet to do so.
[Host, at this rate he is not considering it. He is marinating in it.]
I kept my expression composed as I walked through the corridor, the soft rustle of my dress brushing against the stone walls. Servants bowed as I passed, their movements quiet, respectful—but I barely registered them. My thoughts were elsewhere.
I sighed inwardly.
I know.
[Then just accept him.]
I shook my head slightly, my gaze fixed ahead.
No. I want to hear Elias's thoughts first.
There was a pause, the kind that always meant Nero was judging me.
[Alright… but if he takes any longer, I might accept him for you.]
You will do no such thing.
