The bone throne room was silent.
Selene's presence had vanished from it, her final words still hanging in the air like a lingering chill.
Noel stood alone before the throne.
Lady Vaelora sat rigid in her seat of bones—her eyes unfocused, her posture tense. Both of them remained wordless for several long moments.
But Noel couldn't afford the luxury of silence.
Time was running out.
He straightened slightly, then spoke, clear and measured:
"Lady Vaelora, I would like to discuss our agreement."
Her gaze flickered, as if waking from a trance.
"Yes," she said aloud. "Let's continue."
Noel gave a single nod.
"Very well. According to our agreement, the merits and recognition of the cure will go to House Iskandar. Additionally, House Estermont will pay compensation for the trouble caused."
Vaelora responded without hesitation.
"Agreed…"
Her tone was flat—no trace of her usual steel. It was clear her mind was still caught on what had just unfolded.
Noel didn't pause.
