The hall did not recover quickly.
Even as the guards moved, even as orders were given and carried out with sharpened urgency, something lingered in the air that refused to settle. The remnants of it clung to the stone, to the silence between voices, to the space where violence had almost taken root.
The rogue had been removed.
The blood had not.
Aya stood where she had stepped back, her hands still, her breathing measured in a way that was too deliberate to be natural.
Across the hall, movement continued. Kain's voice cut through the tension with steady authority, directing the lockdown of the palace. Nolle had already disappeared toward the outer corridors, his urgency unmasked now that the threat had revealed itself. Jeyn remained composed, speaking quietly with Eir, their tones low but purposeful.
But none of it reached Aya.
Not fully.
Because she could still feel him.
Not the man.
What she had touched.
What she had seen.
