~Lysandra Faeloria's POV~
The dance ended.
Kel von Rosenfeld bowed with the composure of a man who owned not his body, but his will.
She returned the courtesy and stepped back.
From the outside, her departure looked effortless.
From the inside…
She felt something she had not felt toward any noble in years.
Recognition.
She Observes the Hall
Lady Lysandra Faeloria drifted toward the fringes of the crowd. Nobles glanced at her, some curious, some calculating, some silently stunned she chose him as her partner.
She lifted a crystal goblet from a passing tray and brought it to her lips.
Not to drink.
To hide the shift of her mouth.
They are wondering why I approached him, she thought. They should be wondering why I waited this long.
Her eyes wandered back to Kel, seated near the far edge of the hall. He sat with the stillness of a man at war with pain… and winning with silence.
Her Internal thoughs
I did not dance with him to make a statement.
Nor to console him.
Nor to aid whatever misguided social rehabilitation some believe he seeks.
She took a small sip of wine.
I danced with him to confirm something.
Flashback: First Impression (Earlier in the banquet)
When Kel first entered the Grand Lunar Hall, she noticed him.
Not because he demanded presence.
Quite the opposite.
He walked like one carefully preventing his presence from spilling.
Too graceful for someone recovering from isolation…
Too quiet for someone easily broken.
He does not walk to survive.
He walks to remain unnoticed.
Which means he does not fear being seen…
He fears being seen too soon.
Her eyes had followed him then.
She hadn't acted.
Not yet.
Then came the duel.
⚔ Flashback: Duel Observation
Lysandra stood watching from the edge, fan lowered.
A wooden practice sword against steel. A cursed heir against aura.
When the duel began, her eyes didn't track Dorian's attacks.
They watched Kel's steps.
The lack of wasted motion.
How he waited to move after the strike had begun—not before.
He moves like someone who knows what will happen.
She glanced at his feet.
His breathing.
The way his eyes didn't focus on the blade…
…but the rhythm of the opponent's body.
And when he tapped the sword away…
She exhaled once.
The only people who strike with precision over force are people who cannot afford mistakes.
He fights like someone who will die if he loses.
Not honor-bound.
Existence-bound.
When She Saw the Blood (During the dance)
Up close, she saw it.
The tremor he swallowed.
The pain masked beneath posture.
The instant his curse lashed out.
She felt his grip tighten.
She watched his shoulder stiffen.
And when the blood appeared—
Her own hand moved.
Before thought.
Before propriety.
Before politics.
She wiped the stain away with her own handkerchief.
Not because she pitied him.
But because to leave the blood there… was to acknowledge his weakness more than he himself had allowed.
She would not do that.
Strength is not sanitized by ignoring damage.
It is refined by not letting people witness you bleed.
She had looked into his eyes then.
And in that moment, she understood:
He is not hiding because he is afraid.
He is hiding because he is preparing.
Her Real Thought About Kel
Lysandra placed her wine aside.
Her eyes found Kel again.
He sat alone.
Yet everyone was aware of him.
He was the quietest star in the room…
…and somehow the sky had rearranged around him.
She inhaled slowly.
They think he's rising now.
They're wrong.
She turned fully toward him.
He has been rising since before tonight.
Tonight, we simply noticed.
Why She Chose to Dance
Her lips curved faintly.
Not warmth.
Not affection.
Recognition.
"To stand by someone before others admit his worth," she thought,
"is not alliance."
"It is investment."
She lifted her hand, closing her fan with a soft snap.
A noble lady nearby flinched slightly at the sound.
Lysandra didn't apologize.
Her gaze remained locked on Kel for a breath longer.
Then, softly, in the privacy of her mind:
"Do not disappoint me, Kel von Rosenfeld."
"I did not dance with you out of curiosity."
She turned away—
Shadow following her steps.
"I danced with you because I want to see whether a man who trains like he expects to die… will survive long enough to learn how to live."
Lysandra's Insight
Just before she vanished into the corridors of nobles and velvet,
She spoke one quiet phrase to herself:
"Most nobles seek heirs to match their lineage."
"I seek someone who will rewrite it."
Her steps faded from the hall—
But her eyes remained on him long after she disappeared.