"Earlier," Isolde said, voice light as velvet string, "it was mentioned that Mister Lucavion shares a rather… unique rapport with Lady Valeria."
The words were carefully chosen. Dipped in courtesy, but placed with intention. And though her tone bore no overt pressure, the shift was palpable. A turn of the tide within a polished sea.
Valeria felt the air draw inward again—like the ballroom itself paused to listen.
She didn't flinch.
Instead, her head tilted, just slightly.
Composed.
Controlled.
Predictable movements—because if there was one thing Valeria had learned among nobles, it was that stillness could carry more force than words.
"Yes," she said, her voice even. "We met during a tournament in Andelheim."
A pause followed.
Brief. Subtle.
But noticeable enough that even the softer clinks of wine glasses seemed to quiet.
Isolde's head tilted gently to one side, her lavender gaze curious. "Andelheim… I'm afraid I don't know it. A city within the Empire?"
