Amelia held her breath, her gaze flickering between her father and Julies. The air was thick—so thick it felt like every breath could cut her tongue on the silence.
Earl Frost leaned back in his chair, eyes half-lidded in amusement, but Amelia could tell. Behind that calm facade, his mind was already moving like a seasoned predator circling prey.
"Possibility, you say?" he murmured. "Quite the choice of words, Julies Evans. You make it sound as though my daughter's claim to the crest is not yet… certain."
Julies didn't blink. "Because it isn't, is it?" he replied smoothly. "At least not officially."
A faint, dangerous smile tugged at the Earl's lips. "You speak boldly for a guest under my roof."
"I've learned that honesty is often the best way to measure a man's reaction," Julies said, his voice calm, almost casual. "And from where I stand, it seems to be working."
The Earl chuckled lowly, a dry, humorless sound. "You're testing me?"
