The words lingered in the cool night air long after Percy had spoken them.
They were refining an asset.
Sheila felt her breath catch in her throat, her lungs refusing to draw in air properly as the meaning settled into her bones. For a moment she could not tell whether the chill running through her came from the evening breeze or from the quiet devastation of what she had just heard.
"At first, I told myself I was mistaken," Percy continued, his voice steady, almost detached. "I wanted to be mistaken."
He paused briefly, as though remembering the younger version of himself who had clung to that hope.
"But with each passing year, my doubts faded. The tutors grew stricter. The training sessions lengthened. Evaluations became more frequent, more invasive. The court watched your progress with sharper interest than your well-being." His jaw tightened faintly. "And every time you slipped away to find me, even when I pushed you aside, I still saw it."
