The table is still set.

  The cardinal’s seat and the Left Hand representative’s seat remain empty.

  My father doesn’t comment on it and takes advantage of the moment to eat. I don’t either—though I don’t touch my food. I have no appetite. We both know that when someone from the Faith leaves the table in a hurry, it’s never good news.

  I pour myself another glass of wine. Maybe I shouldn’t. I don’t care. I stopped pretending to be patient a while ago.

  Once again, my thoughts drift where they shouldn’t.

  Lorcan. Elena. Their date. Did it go well? Maybe this unexpected trip was a blessing for them.

  I drink another glass.

  I shouldn’t be thinking about that now. But thinking about them is easier than thinking about what hasn’t returned to this table.

  The cardinal comes back first—quick steps, not quite running. The Left Hand representative follows right behind him. Both wear closed expressions, jaws tight. Neither sits right away.

  Bad sign.

  “There’s been movement,” the cardinal says bluntly. “Minutes ago.”

  My father lifts his gaze slightly.

  “What kind of movement?”

  “Contact,” confirms the Left Hand representative.

  I don’t need more details. I feel my stomach drop.

  “Where?” my father asks.

  “Campus area,” the cardinal replies. “Southern Hill.”

  “Our jurisdiction, then.”

  “Irrelevant,” says the Left Hand representative.

  My father opens his mouth to reply—but stops when his phone buzzes. He checks it without hurry, as if he already knew what it would say. His expression barely changes, but I know him too well.

  “The paladin and the Kestrel weapon are going to fight.”

  I lift my glass. I knew I needed more wine.

  “When?” I ask.

  “Approximately six hours,” the Left Hand representative replies.

  I finish the rest of my glass.

  “Then there’s nothing left to discuss,” I say, standing up. “Dinner is over.”

  My father nods and looks at the two men across the table.

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  “Remember our agreement,” he growls.

  “Of course,” says the cardinal.

  “No one wants an escalation,” adds the Left Hand representative. “We’ll send a team for the paladin.”

  I leave quickly to get my car. I don’t even wait for my father. He knows the way back—and he probably has another stop to make anyway.

  Six hours.

  Too much is at stake.

  I hope it’s not too late.

  Lorcan’s room is silent when I enter.

  The light is low, indirect. It smells like soap—and something else familiar. Him.

  I’m sitting on the edge of his bed when I hear the water running in the bathroom. I shouldn’t be here. I know that. I hope it’s not too big a transgression. Just a small one, done without permission.

  Lorcan has been avoiding me since the encounter with my brother. I think I understand why—but there’s something I can’t accept.

  The sound of the water stops. I don’t move. I shiver.

  One second. Two. The bathroom door opens.

  Steam comes out first. Then Lorcan. Barefoot, hair damp, a towel around his neck and another around his waist. He freezes when he sees me. His eyes—and his torso—seem to glow in the light filtering through the window.

  He looks a little surprised. Then doesn't. He sighs.

  “You need at least two or three dates before coming in here after I’ve taken a shower,” he says, without harshness.

  I can’t help laughing.

  “Is that a rule?”

  “Narrative revenge.”

  .

  He uses the towel around his neck to dry his hair. Silence settles again. Lorcan takes the opportunity to pour himself a glass of whiskey.

  “Whiskey again?” I ask.

  “I can’t help it,” he says, taking a sip. “It helps me think.”

  That’s when I realize I’m trembling a little. It’s not from the cold.

  “Are you really going?”

  Lorcan exhales through his nose.

  “If you’ll let me put on pants first,” he replies.

  “Idiot.”

  He doesn’t answer, just gestures for me to turn around.

  I do. Reluctantly.

  I hear the fabric rustle. The sharp sound of the zipper. The careful tightening of the belt.

  I don’t turn back until I hear the sound of his boots.

  His eyes look tired. Determined. He puts on his protective plates and fire-resistant gear with the same precision he applies to everything.

  “I don’t want you to go fight for me,” I say outright, getting it off my chest.

  Lorcan approaches the edge of the bed and leans down to my height.

  “I’m not going ,” he says. “I’m going to buy you time to choose.”

  I blink. It’s not the answer I expected.

  He sighs.

  “Listen, Elena… bringing you into all this was my responsibility. I opened the door. And I knew it wouldn’t be safe. Now that we’re here, you have a few paths left. Lucian already chose one for you.”

  I look away at the sound of my brother’s name.

  Lorcan reaches out, gently takes my chin, and makes me look at him.

  “I’m not going to do the same,” he continues.

  He holds the gesture a second longer than necessary. Then he lets go. The distance returns—but our eyes stay locked.

  “Let him vent,” he adds. “It’s the only way this ends today.”

  He steps away to grab his gloves, tightening them firmly.

  “And if it goes badly…” he adds, “well. At least your beacon won’t be a problem anymore.”

  I lower my gaze for a moment. I understand what that implies. I take a deep breath.

  “Then,” I manage, smiling, “I’ll be waiting for you here.”

  “We both know you won’t.”

  “No. I won’t.”

  Lorcan straightens up. Gets ready to leave his room. I gather my courage.

  “Lorcan…”

  He stops and looks at me. My eyes feel heavy.

  “If you’re fighting for my choice,” I say, “don’t regret letting me into your world. I asked for it, remember?”

  He smiles.

  “How could I forget,” he says softly.

  At the door, his posture shifts. The intimate moment closes. Lorcan switches back to operational mode. He checks his watch.

  “I’m leaving in an hour, after checking my gear,” he says. “If you’re not in the car by then, I’ll have to leave you here.”

  “Yes, sir,” I reply, exaggerating a salute.

  The door closes.

  I don’t sigh. I don’t sit down. I don’t stay to think.

  I go straight to my room.

  An hour isn’t a countdown.

  It’s enough time to prepare.