Noel stood tall, breath even, mind focused.
The weight of the room hadn't lessened—if anything, the air felt thicker now, colder.
"I know how to make a cure, Lady Vaelora," he said calmly, voice clear in the vast hall.
Vaelora tilted her head slightly.
A dangerous glint sparked in her ice-blue eyes.
"Oh?" she replied, her tone both amused and sharp. "Now that is interesting. But tell me—now that you've offered me this little piece of information… why shouldn't I simply take the rest from you, just as you did with my daughter?"
Noel swallowed, throat tightening for a brief second.
'Good point… well played.'
But his face remained composed. He straightened his shoulders.
"Because I trust," he said steadily, eyes meeting hers, "that the great Lady Vaelora would never stoop to the level of a Thorne family disgrace."
A cold silence followed.
Then—Vaelora gave a faint smirk.
"I see. No, I would not."
