"Was this part of your plan too, my friend?" Aetos asked with his usual tact.
Dorian pushed back his chair and slammed his palm onto the table—hard enough that the whole thing buckled under the force. Without another word, he stormed out through the front door, leaving the others behind.
"Great. And where are we supposed to eat now?" Nir lamented, staring mournfully at the ruined furniture.
Xav only rolled his eyes.
"I think we have slightly bigger problems," he muttered, arms crossed as he leaned back in his chair and surveyed the group.
"Problems? The way I see it, Dorian is the only one with a problem," Aeson chimed in with a smirk, earning another loud laugh from Nir. Filarion merely shook his head.
"Well, he's not wrong. I've never seen a woman speak to Dorian like that," Nir added.
"That's because you didn't know Elora three hundred years ago," Aeson shot back—before Marcus cut in.
"Give the girl a chance. And give Dorian one too."
He rose from the table and headed toward the door.
"In the end, he'll do whatever he wants anyway, won't he?" Aeson remarked. A chorus of agreeing hums followed.
Marcus stepped outside and headed toward the stables, where he found Dorian brushing down his horse with a grim, focused expression.
"I have no desire to listen to your lecture," Dorian grumbled without even looking up. He didn't need to; he knew that stride anywhere.
"And what if I didn't come to lecture you?" Marcus replied with a laugh.
"Then the world must've fallen off its axis."
Marcus laughed harder, but fell silent as he studied his friend's face.
"Look, Dorian—"
"This is exactly what I meant," Dorian muttered irritably under his breath, continuing to groom the horse with stubborn intensity.
Marcus sighed. "Tough luck, but I'm telling you anyway. Leonie has every right to be angry with you, and you know that, don't you?"
Dorian turned toward him, arms folded across his chest. Of course he knew. He hated even thinking about it—hated even more how much it affected him.
"I know you love punishing yourself for things you can't control… and maybe it bothers you that you care about her. But what's done is done. We can't undo the last few days."
"You think I don't know that?" Dorian snapped. "It's one thing that she hates me—but by bringing her with us, we might have signed her death warrant."
His voice dropped lower, rougher. He wasn't talking about anger anymore—he was talking about fear. Real, choking fear.
Marcus' expression softened.
"We'll figure something out. We always do. But talk to her. And do me a favor—just this once, be honest with her. And with yourself."
He didn't wait for a reply. Marcus simply turned and strode away, leaving Dorian alone with thoughts sharp enough to cut.
A few moments later, Marcus slipped into Leonie's room without knocking. The moment his eyes landed on her curled, defeated form, his heart clenched.
"Move over," he instructed lightly.
Leonie obeyed before she had time to question it, and Marcus dropped onto the bed beside her, folding his hands behind his head. The old frame creaked dangerously, but Marcus didn't so much as blink.
"How're you holding up, little one?" he asked.
Leonie blinked in surprise. No matter how many times she saw it, Marcus' easy warmth always caught her off guard. No one had ever made her feel this… safe.
"You knew?" she asked—the question that mattered most.
The sour twist of Marcus' mouth was answer enough.
"I see," she murmured, the disappointment stinging sharper than she expected.
"I'm sorry. I only suspected."
Silence settled between them for a while.
"You should know—Dorian never meant to hurt you. And yes, he can be an insufferable blockhead, but he'd lay down his life for the people he cares about."
Leonie said nothing.
"I'm not asking you to forgive him… just hear him out," Marcus added.
Leonie snorted softly.
"He forced me to tell him everything. You heard it all. How could I ever trust him again? I was finally starting to think I could have a free life… and the first chance he got, he proved me wrong."
Her voice tightened. "And it doesn't matter anyway. He's disgusted by me. I saw it in his eyes."
Marcus exhaled slowly, then grinned.
"We all make mistakes. You, for example, failed to break Xav's nose—even though you gave it a decent try."
He flashed her another mischievous grin, hoping she'd understand the message hidden beneath the joke.
Then he sat up, tapped a finger against his temple—a wordless reference to her worsening headaches.
"Filarion's working on a solution."
He rose to his feet.
"And you, little eavesdropper, need a proper night's sleep more than anything."
He headed for the door.
"Marcus?" Leonie called after him.
He turned.
"Thank you."
Marcus winked at her—and slipped out into the hallway.