[redith].
The next morning, I woke to a pale morning light slipping through the curtains.
After freshening up, I told Draven I was going to pick up Xamira for breakfast, and his expression softened imdiately.
"Go," he said with a small smile. "She will like that."
I smiled back and left before he could say anything else.
Xamira’s bedroom slled faintly of lavender. Her nanny was already there, helping her button her dress. Xamira turned when she saw , her face lighting up.
"My lady!"
She hopped off the stool and ran straight to , arms wrapping around my waist. I laughed softly and bent to her height.
"Good morning, little sun," I said.
Her nanny bowed politely. "Good morning, Luna."
I nodded in greeting, then smoothed Xamira’s hair. "Did you sleep well?"
She nodded enthusiastically. "I dread of green horses."
"Green?" I teased. "That sounds serious."
She giggled and slipped her hand into mine as if it belonged there. I signalled her nanny, then led Xamira out.
The walk to the dining room was unhurried. Xamira chatted about nothing and everything, her steps light, her grip warm.
Dennis, Jeffery, Oscar, and Draven were already seated when we arrived. The servants bowed as soon as I walked in.
"Good morning, Luna."
Dennis and the others remained sitting and nodded respectfully to acknowledge my presence, knowing that I didn’t want them standing.
Then, Xamira bead. "Good morning!"
She greeted everyone like royalty herself.
I took my seat beside Draven. Xamira climbed onto the chair at my right, her feet swinging as a servant adjusted her cushion.
For a brief mont, everything felt calm. Then the doors opened, and Randall entered.
Everyone stood to greet him, and that was when I noticed the frown on his face wasn’t new. But it wasn’t aid at Draven or .
That cold and unmistakable gaze was fixed on Xamira.
His gaze didn’t flicker or even try to soften. It lingered with open disdain, as though her presence offended him on a fundantal level.
Xamira shrank closer to instinctively. I felt a quiet, sharp certainty settling in my chest.
Randall didn’t just dislike her. He abhorred her.
Everyone settled back into their seats. The silence was unnaturally thick, and Randall’s gaze remained fixed on Xamira, sharp and openly hostile. Then he turned to Draven.
"Why did you bring this thing to the table?"
The word struck like a slap.
Xamira stiffened beside , her small fingers tightening around my sleeve.
On the other hand, Draven straightened in his chair. His voice remained calm, but I could feel the steel beneath it.
"She is my daughter," he said. "And she bears the Oatrun surna."
Randall let out a short, cold laugh. "The Oatrun na is not given to random beings."
My jaw clenched at that statent. But Draven did not raise his voice. This was his father, he had a different way of dealing with him.
"You will mind how you speak," he said evenly. "Especially about my child."
Randall’s expression darkened. "A human," he snapped. "You adopted a human and brought her into Stormveil. Do you even understand what you’ve done?"
"I don’t need to explain my personal decisions to anyone," Draven replied.
Randall’s temper flared instantly.
"This," he said sharply, pointing at Draven, "is exactly why you are already on your way to ruin before even ascending the throne. By the ti you get there, you will have gathered more enemies than necessary."
Draven shrugged slightly. "I’m not living my life to please anyone."
Randall slamd his hand against the table. "Then at least prioritize doing the right thing," he snapped, "instead of changing traditions and offending everyone in the process."
Draven nodded once, but he said nothing.
I knew that nod. It ant he had already made his decision. He just didn’t care whatever his father said again to try to convince him.
"Did you even hear ?" Randall demanded.
"My ears are working perfectly, Father," Draven answered calmly. Then he added, once more, but politely and firmly, "Please rember to be mindful of your actions in the presence of my daughter. She is still a child, and she easily gets frightened."
And that was all Randall needed to lose control.
He slamd both hands onto the table. "Are you teaching how to behave in my own house?"
The silence that followed was suffocating. No one moved. No one breathed.
But Draven did not raise his voice. He was still as calm as before. "I’m not, Father," he said, then paused a bit. "I’m setting boundaries."
Dennis’s jaw tightened. Jeffery’s face went carefully blank. Oscar did not look up.
Randall stared at Draven for a long mont. Then he stood up, stepped back, turned and walked away.
The doors closed behind him with a sharp finality. Only then did I realize how tightly Xamira was holding onto .
And how steady Draven’s hand remained on the table as though nothing that had just happened had shaken him at all.
The silence Randall left behind was heavy, and for a heartbeat, no one moved.
I turned fully toward Xamira.
"It’s alright," I said softly, lowering my voice the way one does around a skittish animal or a wounded child. "You’re safe."
She didn’t look up. Her shoulders were stiff, her gaze fixed on the empty doorway Randall had disappeared through.
Just then, Draven’s chair scraped back slightly.
"I will have breakfast moved to the smaller dining room," he said calmly, already signaling a servant. "Clear this table."
"No," I said quietly.
Draven looked at .
I shook my head once. "Let her finish eating. Don’t make it feel like she did sothing wrong."
His jaw tightened, but he nodded.
So, I slid my chair closer to Xamira and wrapped an arm around her small fra, pulling her gently against my side. She leaned into instantly, her face pressing into my ribs.
I could feel her heart racing.
"You didn’t do anything wrong," I murmured into her hair. "Not even a little."
Her voice ca out small. "He... he doesn’t like ."
My chest tightened.
"I know," I said honestly. "But that has nothing to do with you."
She sniffed. "Is it because I’m not like you?"
I stilled for a mont, then tilted her chin up carefully so she had to look at . Her green eyes were glossy but brave—too brave for a child her age.
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