The question lingered between them.
Not because it was difficult...
But because everyone in the room knew it was a question that mattered.
In the uncomfortable silence, the fire crackled gently in an erratic rhythm. The wind brushed snow against the windows with a dry hiss before fading into quiet.
Fenric did not answer immediately. Instead, he leaned back in his chair, fingertips resting lightly upon the porcelain teacup, tracing the delicate rim of the cup with his thumb. When he finally looked up, the easy smile that had accompanied him since entering the manor had faded.
Aurel watched him closely, her brows drawing together as she noticed the faint pause behind his composed expression. He was buying time, deciding how much of the truth he wished to reveal.
"...That is a fair question, my lady." The merchant's eyes lifted toward Mikael. "You asked what House Wolfram gains."
"I did."
