Her expression didn't change, her eyes remaining two deep, unreadable pools, but her answer was immediate.
"You do not ask me what I am feeling," Elara said simply. "You do not look at me and expect a display of grief, joy, or affection. When I am with you, I do not have to calculate what a normal person would feel in this scenario. You demand my body, not my mind. And right now, my mind is the only thing that tires me."
The room fell silent again, the weight of her words settling over them. To anyone else, it might have sounded cold—an admission that they were merely tools for sensory distraction. But to Ken and Mahir, who had known her for years, who had seen her carry the crushing weight of a collapsing empire without ever shedding a single tear or raising her voice, it was the highest form of intimacy she could offer. It meant they were her safe harbor. Her place to turn off.
