Elara rested her elbows lightly against the table, watching Valeria try—unsuccessfully—to regain her composure. Most would've missed it: the brief hesitation in her breath, the slight tension in her jaw, the careful way her eyes lingered as if caught between caution and curiosity. But Elara saw all of it. She'd been seeing it since the dome, when Valeria kept glancing at her with a kind of quiet, uncertain interest that didn't resemble suspicion or calculation, but something much gentler.
It felt strange to be observed like that—strange, but not unwelcome. Valeria's attention lacked the brittle politeness of nobles or the subtle cruelty woven into court-trained smiles. She looked at Elara the way Elara herself observed others: quietly, precisely, as though trying to understand the edges of something she hadn't expected to find.
And that, oddly enough, drew Elara closer rather than pushing her away.
