Draven's limbs were whole again.
That fact alone felt wrong.
As he slowly pushed himself upright, mud sucking at his boots, a dull ache radiating through muscles that had very recently been separate, a stray thought slipped through the fog of pain and exhaustion.
He flexed his fingers again—slower this time—watching them obey without hesitation.
No delay.
No numbness.
No wrongness.
The muscle felt right. Familiar. As if it had never been torn away in the first place.
My limbs… they actually feel right.
When they had been cut off, he'd pressed them back into place out of instinct, out of desperation—and it had felt off. Wrong. Like trying to fit a memory where a body part should be.
Now there was nothing.
No stiffness.
No deadened sensation.
No lingering echo of absence.
Just… normal.
Like nothing had ever happened.
That was—
…Unsettling.
A breath escaped him before he quite realized it.
"Huh."
Then another thought caught up with him.
…Did she just call me "my lord"?
His crimson eyes slid to the kneeling maid, narrowing as he studied her. The words replayed themselves in his head, unwanted and persistent.
My lord.
That hadn't been a slip. People didn't fall into titles like that by accident.
What the hell was that about?
Elliana's gaze did not waver.
Her silver eyes rested on the maid with the same calm inevitability one might give a sealed ledger—already written, already balanced, now merely being reviewed.
"You will speak," Elliana said slowly, each word deliberate, pressing against the air like weight. "And you will choose your words carefully. Because I will hear everything you say—and I will remember. Every syllable."
The maid's posture stiffened under the intensity of that stare, but she did not tremble.
She remained on one knee, spine straight, hands resting loosely against her thigh despite the rain and mud. When she lifted her head, her expression was composed—solemn, but unbroken.
Elliana leaned slightly closer.
Not threateningly.
Her presence alone was enough.
The shadows behind her coiled and shifted subtly, restless and patient—a quiet demonstration of the power waiting to enforce her will.
"You were entrusted with his safety," Elliana continued, her tone calm, unyielding. "Not merely to shield him from danger, but to anticipate it. To act before it could ever touch him."
A pause.
"And yet."
Her words were precise. Unraised. Each one carried the weight of centuries of authority and experience.
Draven stared at her, jaw tightening.
Bullshit, he thought bitterly.
I'm not blind. I know half-assed caution when I see it.
"My lady," the maid said evenly. "I had no intention—none—of allowing harm to come to the young master."
Elliana did not react.
So the maid continued.
"My objective was singular: to keep him alive and mobile," she said. "I positioned myself accordingly. I engaged when necessary. I diverted threats when possible."
A pause.
"My failure was not of loyalty," she added calmly. "It was of calculation."
Draven kept staring at her, jaw tight, teeth grinding as she laid out her explanation.
Bullshit.
He wasn't blind. He knew half assed-effort when he saw it. She hadn't tried to reach him—not really. It had felt less like searching and more like waiting. Watching to see how things would unfold.
Or maybe he was overthinking it.
She had saved him. More than once. That counted for something.
And maybe—just maybe—she had expected his mom to show up. Maybe she'd sensed her before she arrived. Some ripple in the mana. Some familiar pull in the magic only she could feel.
If that was true…
Why hadn't the other two sensed it as well?
Draven's eyes narrowed, suspicion settling in his chest—heavy, unresolved.
Elliana's eyes narrowed, just a fraction.
"The opponent exceeded my initial assessment," the maid continued. "His speed, endurance, and capacity for sustained pressure were greater than anticipated. I adjusted. I compensated. But the margin closed faster than I accounted for."
She lowered her gaze—not in shame, but in acknowledgment.
"I was outmatched longer than I calculated," she said quietly.
"There was no malice in my actions. No divided loyalty. No hidden intent. Only error."
Rain hissed softly around them.
Elliana leaned closer.
Not threateningly.
Deliberately.
"You speak of intention," Elliana said, her voice level.
"So let us be very clear."
She gestured subtly toward Draven—still standing in the mud, whole again but pale, exhausted, marked by blood that rain could not entirely wash away.
"Does he look," Elliana asked calmly,
"like someone who was not harmed?"
The maid did not answer.
She did not need to.
Draven stared at her, unimpressed.
Yeah, dumbass. Do I look fine to you?
Sure—if you ignored the blood stains, the torn clothes, the dried streaks along his skin. If you ignored the fact that he'd nearly died.
But yeah.
Totally fine.
He said nothing. Just let the silence stretch, his expression flat and cold.
Fuck you.
Elliana exhaled softly, almost imperceptibly, and leaned closer—her presence calm, but inescapable.
"You were charged with a life," she said. "One life. And that life is precious—not only to me."
She straightened.
"I believe you," Elliana continued. "When you say you did not intend for this to happen."
Her gaze sharpened.
"But intention is not protection."
The shadows beneath her feet shifted slightly—slow, patient.
"You may keep your intentions," Elliana said evenly.
"You may keep your reasons.
You may even keep your regrets."
She stepped closer—not threateningly, but inexorably.
"You were not tasked with meaning well," Elliana said. "You were tasked with ensuring that no outcome like this was possible."
Her silver eyes narrowed—not with anger, but with precision.
"If your intentions truly align with what you claim," she said, "then you will keep them aligned. Flawlessly."
The shadows stirred faintly.
"And understand this," Elliana added softly. "If any harm ever comes to him again—through miscalculation, hesitation, or intentions you believed were sufficient—"
Her eyes locked onto the maid's.
She let the silence finish the sentence.
"You will answer to me," Elliana concluded. "Not for what you meant. But for what occurred."
Not raised.
Not shouted.
Final.
The maid bowed her head immediately.
"Yes, my lady," she said without hesitation. "I understand."
Elliana held her gaze a moment longer.
Then she turned back to Draven.