The newly-built corridor beside the ruined throne hall was still cold with the Night Court air. A hush lingered in the stones, as if the past had not quite let go.
Caroline stood at the arched window, her fingers resting on the stone ledge. The stars were brighter here. She didn't speak, but Casimir knew she was listening.
"You were steady today," he said softly. "Even when Cyrus acted like a bored fox."
She didn't turn. "Because if I flinch, they'll think I'm still mourning. Or worse still afraid."
"You just carried yourself well, darling but you do not have to pretend with me."
At that, her shoulders shifted. She breathed out slowly. "Do you think it will hold? The pact?"
Casimir stepped beside her, his presence warm and grounding.
"No. Not unless we keep showing up. Not unless we remind them why we signed it."
She looked at him now. "And what about you? Will you keep showing up?"
