Around them, courtiers watched out of the corners of their eyes. Some whispered behind napkins. Others pretended not to notice anything at all.
At one point, the Emperor raised his glass.
"To family," he said. "In conflict or in concord, blood remains blood."
Everyone drank.
Elara did too, after watching his face for even the slightest hint of amusement. If he wanted her dead at this table, he wasn't stupid enough to do it with a toast in front of witnesses.
She took a measured sip and set the glass down.
Under the table, her hand was steady.
They talked of safe things and unsafe things wrapped in polite language:
- Eleana mentioned bandits on the river routes, smiling as she did.
- Sera asked about the specifics of the preservation magic, her questions precise and a little too sharp.
- A noble asked whether Elara planned to return "soon," emphasis too obvious.
She answered with the same calm tone every time.
No tremor. No visible fear.
