Mara grinned, nerves melting. "A promise. For more walls, fewer interruptions… and all the lifetimes we're owed."
Elira stared at the ring.
Not at Mara. Not at the velvet box. Not at the flickering hearthlight that cast Mara's hopeful expression in soft golds and oranges.
Just. The. Ring.
Time stretched like thick syrup. The silence expanded, a dense fog of uncertainty that settled into Mara's lungs and refused to leave. She'd fought necromancers with steadier breathing. She'd faced down an enraged wyvern with more confidence.
But this? This was Elira.
And Elira, unlike wyverns, did not roar. She contemplated. She thought. She wielded silence like a blade, and right now, she was sharpening it against Mara's heart.
Still kneeling, Mara tilted her head slightly. "I mean, it's not cursed. Probably."
Elira's lips twitched. Barely. Almost imperceptibly. But it was there.
