They sat together in that room for a long time, letting time pass. Their breakfast had grown cold, the tea already half gone, yet their conversation kept flowing.
Velthya spoke at length about how the Lycanthrope nobility had begun to splinter between those who supported the Church and those who opposed it. She told of the royal council, now riddled with intrigue, where her father's voice had become nothing but that of a puppet. She spoke of the fear growing among the people, fear that one day their kingdom would lose its very identity.
Sylvia listened calmly, sometimes asking short questions, sometimes offering nothing more than a meaningful gaze. Her pale face betrayed no excessive expression, yet every word she gave made Velthya feel understood.
At last, when the sound of the storm outside began to ease a little, Velthya exhaled heavily.
"I don't know what will happen from here on. But I know one thing: so long as you're here, I don't feel alone anymore."
