Lilian noticed it again that night.
Ariya was asleep, curled on her side with one hand tucked beneath her cheek. Her breathing was soft, even—exactly how a child her age should sleep.
And yet.
The bracelet was warm.
Not glowing. Not reacting violently. Just… warm, like it was awake.
Lilian sat beside the crib longer than necessary, fingers folded tightly in her lap. She had raised many children. Noble children. Fragile children. Difficult children.
None like this.
"She didn't activate anything," Lilian whispered to herself. "She was only playing."
Still, she reached out and gently turned Ariya's wrist, inspecting the runes. They were dormant now, etched and harmless.
But Lilian knew better.
The bracelet was responding before Ariya was aware of herself.
That was dangerous.
Footsteps approached.
Lilian didn't turn immediately. She already knew who it was.
"You felt it too," the Duke said quietly.
She stood and bowed. "Yes, Your Grace."
He stepped closer to the crib, his gaze fixed not on Ariya's face—but on the bracelet.
"It reacted without conscious intent," he said. Not a question.
"Yes."
Silence stretched between them.
"At this rate," the Duke continued, "the bracelet will not only suppress. It will intervene."
Lilian's jaw tightened. "She's still a child."
"She's still a threat," he replied calmly. "To herself most of all."
Lilian looked down at Ariya, her expression softening. "She laughs when her brother plays with her. She cries when she's tired. She doesn't even understand what she is yet."
The Duke didn't argue.
Instead, he said, "Then we must ensure no one else understands either."
His gaze sharpened. "Double the concealment. No outsiders. No unnecessary visitors."
"And Ariya?" Lilian asked quietly.
The Duke turned away.
"We watch," he said. "And we wait."
Lilian remained by the crib long after he left, one hand hovering just above Ariya's wrist.
Please, she thought, let her stay a child a little longer.