Alice looked up at me suddenly, sharp and alert again. "What do you think, Julies?"
I blinked, then cleared my throat. "About what, My Lady?"
"About this so-called vigilante." Her gaze bored into mine. "Do you think he's a hero?".
My mouth went dry.
She was staring at me so intensely, as if she could peel back my skin and see right through the bones. I felt a chill crawl down my spine—not from the morning breeze, but from that gaze.
Every fiber of my body screamed to play it safe. Say something vague. Neutral. That's how you survive around nobles, especially one as sharp as her.
But I was tired.
Tired in the bones. Tired in the soul.
So I said the first thing that felt honest.
"…I think he did what needed to be done."
Alice raised an eyebrow, but didn't interrupt.
"He wasn't chasing glory," I continued, my voice quiet, "and he didn't ask for praise. He just… acted. When no one else would."
