The palace doors shut behind us with a thud that seemed to echo all the way down the stone steps.
I let out a long breath I hadn't realized I was holding. My palms were still clammy, my heart still thumping too hard for what had been just a delivery.
The Blue Palace wasn't just big—it swallowed you whole. And Elisif… she was more real, more alive, than anything I had ever seen in a game. Every detail of that room had pressed itself into me. The sharpness of Falk's stare, the weight of Sybille's silence, and that armored woman's gaze burning into my back.
But I couldn't show it. Not now.
"You looked like a fool in there," Taarie said flatly as we stepped down the wide stairs toward the open courtyard. "Mouth open, eyes darting like a lost boy. You should have seen yourself."
I stiffened, half-turning to her. "I didn't—"
"You did." She didn't even glance at me, her tone cool as ever. "If you are ever in the presence of nobility again, contain yourself. The Blue Palace is no tavern hall."
Heat prickled my face, but I bit my tongue. She wasn't wrong. I had been staring too much, gawking like a tourist instead of someone who belonged there. But still, the sting of her words hit harder after all that tension.
We walked in silence for a few moments, the sound of the sea wind carrying across Solitude's stone streets.
Then, to my surprise, her tone softened—not much, but enough to notice.
"…Still," she said, almost grudgingly, "you did not embarrass me. Or Radiant Raiment. That is… something."
I blinked, caught off guard. Coming from her, that was practically high praise.
Before I could reply, she turned slightly toward me, her sharp eyes catching the lamplight. "I suppose you've nowhere to stay."
"Not really," I admitted. "I was going to find a room at the Winking Skeever."
She gave a small hum, considering. Then, as if making up her mind, she said: "You will stay with us. For now. You proved at least marginally useful today, and Endarie will want to see that her judgment wasn't wasted."
I stopped for a moment, staring at her. "…Wait. Really?"
Her lips twitched—almost a smirk, almost not. "Do not mistake it for generosity. Think of it as… efficiency. You are an extra pair of hands. Nothing more."
But then it happened. For just a heartbeat, her usual mask slipped, and the corner of her mouth curved—not sharp, not mocking, but a real smile. Small. Brief. Almost shy.
It stunned me more than anything in the Blue Palace had.
I'd only ever known her with that aloof, biting edge, every word dipped in sarcasm. And here she was, offering me a place, letting me in—even if she dressed it up as practicality. And smiling.
The image of Meridia flashed in my mind, her commanding voice, her endless orders. I had no choice with her, no space to breathe. But here, with Taarie, at least there was something human.
I found myself nodding. "Alright. I'll stay."
The smile lingered just a fraction longer before she straightened her back, the mask sliding neatly back into place. "Good. Then don't expect special treatment. And don't touch anything without asking."
I couldn't help it—I chuckled under my breath.
"What?" she snapped, though her eyes glinted with something lighter than annoyance.
"Nothing," I said quickly. "Just… didn't expect that."
Her nose wrinkled faintly, like she regretted the moment already. "Don't make me regret it."
We kept walking, the streets quiet around us, the lamps flickering against the stone. For the first time since stepping foot in Solitude, I didn't feel entirely out of place.
Because for the first time since Meridia dragged me into this, someone here had chosen to give me a place—not because of prophecy, not because of orders, but because they simply decided to.
It wasn't much. But it was enough to make me follow her steps a little lighter.