Maiven's eyes widened the moment she saw the Duke's hand shift slightly on the hilt of his sword. She had served him long enough to recognize that subtle motion—the calm before his strike.
"Elwyn, stop!!"
Elwyn, blind with emotion, raised his sword again and lunged forward. But before the Duke could react this time, Maiven darted between them and threw her arms wide open, blocking Elwyn's path.
"Don't!" she screamed, standing firm between the two.
Elwyn's blade halted inches from Maiven's shoulder, his hands trembling. "Move, Maiven."
"No," she whispered, shaking her head. "If you swing again, you won't get another chance. You know that, Elwyn."
Behind her, the Duke stood silent, his sword half-raised but no longer threatening. His gaze rested coldly on Elwyn. He didn't speak, didn't flinch. He simply waited.
"Elwyn…" Maiven's voice softened. "Please. Don't do this."
Maiven turned around slowly, her back now facing Elwyn. She faced the Duke, voice steady but desperate.
