The corridor outside the receiving room is quiet, softened by thick carpets that swallow the sound of footsteps. The tall windows along the wall let in filtered daylight through gauze curtains, turning the marble floor into pale gold.
Alisha stands before the door for a brief second.
Her hand rests lightly against the polished handle. Inside, she knows who is waiting. A name from childhood memories. A man she has not seen since the days when the world still spoke to her in sound.
She inhales slowly.
Then she pushes the door open.
The hinges move without a sound.
Inside, King Valerius Silverwindcrest and Rowan Ravenshade sit facing one another across a low table. Porcelain cups rest between them, steam no longer rising. The room carries the faint scent of brewed tea and polished wood.
Both men look up at the same moment.
Alisha steps inside with quiet grace, the soft fabric of her gown brushing the carpet as she walks forward. The morning light follows her in through the open doorway, catching along the pale blue folds of her dress.
She stops a few steps away from them.
Her fingers gather the sides of her gown delicately, lifting it just enough to allow movement without disturbing its fall. Then she bows.
The motion is practiced and respectful.
Not the light greeting of a daughter to her father.
But the formal courtesy given to someone older. Someone worthy of acknowledgment.
Her head lowers.
Golden strands of her hair slip forward across her shoulder as she holds the bow for a second longer than usual, expressing not obligation, but genuine respect.
Rowan watches quietly.
The last time he saw her, she had been a child barely reaching his waist, hiding behind her mother's skirts with curious eyes. Now she stands before him with the composure of someone who has grown within silence rather than despite it.
Alisha straightens slowly, hands returning to rest lightly before her.
Her gaze lifts first to her father, then to Rowan.
A silent greeting offered without words.
Alisha's gaze shifts from her father to Rowan.
There is a flicker of recognition in her eyes, softened by uncertainty that comes with the passing of years. Faces change. Time reshapes memories.
Her hands move slowly, gracefully.
Did you call me?
The question is directed toward Rowan, though she looks briefly at her father, knowing he will give voice to what she cannot hear answered.
Valerius watches her hands, then turns toward Rowan.
"She is asking if you called for her."
Rowan's expression softens in a way it rarely does outside the walls of his own home. The lines on his face ease just slightly as he looks at the young woman standing before him.
He gives a small shake of his head.
"Tell her," he says quietly, "that I simply wanted to see her. It has been a very long time since our last meeting."
Valerius nods once.
He turns back to Alisha, lifting his hands.
His fingers begin to move with practiced familiarity.
Lord Rowan says he did not call you for anything important. He only wanted to see you. It has been many years since he last met you.
Alisha's eyes widen just a fraction as she watches the signs.
Understanding settles in.
Her posture relaxes slightly, the formality easing from her shoulders. A faint warmth touches her expression as she looks back toward Rowan, as if measuring the years between who she remembers and the man now sitting before her.
The silence in the room remains unbroken.
But it no longer feels distant.
Rowan watches her for a moment longer, as if weighing something in his mind.
Then he turns slightly toward Valerius.
"Ask her," he says in a lower voice, "how Kael behaved with her yesterday."
Valerius raises an eyebrow, already understanding where this is leading, but Rowan continues.
"I am preparing for Kael's future," he adds calmly. "Including his marriage. She spoke with him longer than anyone else has since he woke up. If anyone can judge his manners, it would be her."
The words are simple.
The meaning behind them is not.
Valerius nods once and turns toward his daughter.
His hands lift again.
His fingers begin to move slowly so she can follow each word clearly.
Lord Rowan wishes to know how Kael behaved with you yesterday. Since you spent time together, he believes you can answer this better than others.
Alisha's eyes remain on her father's hands as the message unfolds.
For a brief second, something shifts in her expression.
It is subtle. So subtle that anyone else might miss it.
But Valerius does not.
A faint stillness enters her posture.
Her shoulders do not tense, yet they no longer rest as easily as before. The warmth that had begun to form in her gaze dims just slightly, replaced by something more guarded. Her fingers curl inward against the fabric of her gown before relaxing again.
Marriage.
Even unspoken, the implication travels clearly through the air between them.
She lowers her gaze for the smallest moment.
Then lifts it again.
Her hands rise.
Kael's behaviour was very good.
She pauses, as if choosing the right way to continue.
He was kind.
There is no hesitation in the signs themselves. They are steady, composed, respectful.
Yet the space between one gesture and the next feels heavier than before.
Valerius watches her carefully.
The answer is correct.
Polite.
Appropriate.
And somehow… incomplete.
He says nothing.
Because a father learns that not every silence is meant to be broken.
Valerius turns his head slightly toward Rowan once Alisha's hands fall still.
"She says his behaviour was very good," he tells him in a calm, even voice. "That he was kind to her."
Rowan does not answer immediately.
He sits back in his chair, the leather creasing faintly beneath his weight, fingers resting against the carved armrest as he absorbs the reply. The morning light from the tall palace windows stretches across the floor between them, catching against the polished surface of the low table where the untouched coffee slowly cools.
That single answer settles somewhere deep within him.
Then, after a moment of quiet thought, he speaks again.
"In that case… ask her if she would be willing to visit our home on the first of January, 1534."
Valerius's brows lift just slightly.
Rowan continues, voice steady, measured.
"We will be celebrating Zara's seventeenth birthday that evening. There will be many guests present. Family acquaintances, business associates, some close friends. A formal gathering… but not an unpleasant one."
His gaze drifts briefly toward Alisha before returning to Valerius.
"It might do her some good to attend. A different environment. Some lightness."
Valerius understands what Rowan does not say aloud.
He turns toward his daughter.
Alisha stands quietly near the center of the room, hands folded gently in front of her gown, posture straight yet relaxed in the presence of someone she has known since childhood.
Valerius raises his hands.
On the first of January, he signs slowly, making sure each motion is clear, the Ravenshade family will be hosting a celebration for Zara's seventeenth birthday. Lord Rowan invites you to attend.
Her eyes move from his hands to his face, then back again as she follows the silent words.
There will be many guests, music, conversation, he continues. It will be an evening gathering.
Her expression shifts almost imperceptibly.
The faint ease she had been holding tightens.
Her fingers press lightly into the soft fabric at her side.
For a second, she says nothing.
Then her hands rise.
What would I do there?
The movement is gentle, careful.
I cannot speak to anyone.
Valerius lowers his hands and turns toward Rowan.
"She says she would not know what to do there," he explains quietly. "That she cannot talk with anyone."
Rowan listens without interruption.
His gaze moves briefly toward Alisha before he answers.
"Tell her Kael will be there."
There is no hesitation in his voice.
Valerius turns back again, lifting his hands.
Kael will also be present.
The moment the name forms between his fingers, Alisha's attention sharpens.
Her eyes still.
Her breathing pauses just slightly.
A second passes.
Then another.
But her hands do not move.
She looks down.
When they finally rise again, the motion is slower than before.
I do not wish to be a burden.
Valerius feels something tighten faintly in his chest at the choice of words, but his expression does not change.
You would not be a burden, he signs firmly.
She watches him.
He continues.
It is only an evening. You may leave whenever you feel uncomfortable. No one will force you to remain.
Her gaze flickers, uncertainty pressing quietly behind it.
A crowded hall.
Strangers' eyes.
Laughter she cannot hear.
Voices she cannot follow.
Conversations that move too quickly for her to enter.
Her fingers hesitate in the air.
Valerius does not rush her.
He simply waits.
His eyes steady.
Patient.
Encouraging.
Finally, her hands lift once more.
Alright.
The answer is small.
Careful.
But certain.
Valerius exhales slowly before lowering his hands, relief easing through his posture. He turns back toward Rowan.
"She has agreed," he says.
And in the quiet stillness of that sunlit room, an invitation becomes something far more significant than a simple evening visit.
Rowan gives a small nod once Valerius confirms her answer.
"In that case… please be ready on the first of January," he says, his tone warm in a way that rarely surfaces outside his own home. "I will send a car to escort her personally."
Valerius's brows lift slightly at that.
Rowan continues, glancing briefly toward Alisha before looking back at his old friend.
"She is a very special guest to me," he adds. "It would be a pleasure if she came."
For a second, Valerius simply looks at him.
Then a quiet laugh escapes him, low and unrestrained, something far more relaxed than the formal amusement he wears before ministers and nobles. He turns toward his daughter, amusement still lingering in his eyes, and raises his hands again.
Lord Rowan says you are a very special guest to him, he signs, his movements smooth with long practice. He will send a car for you himself.
Alisha blinks.
A faint warmth rises to her cheeks before she can stop it.
Her fingers lift quickly in response, almost defensive.
I am not that important.
Valerius watches her sign, the corner of his mouth twitching.
He lowers his hands and turns back toward Rowan.
"She says she is not that important."
There is a beat of silence.
Then both men laugh.
Not the restrained politeness of court.
But openly.
Louder than before.
The sound fills the quiet sitting room, echoing softly against high ceilings and paneled walls.
Alisha cannot hear it.
But she can see it.
The way their shoulders shake.
The way Valerius leans back slightly in his chair.
The way Rowan's usually composed expression breaks into unmistakable amusement.
Heat rushes up her neck.
Her grip tightens lightly against the fabric of her gown as embarrassment settles in.
She lowers her gaze, wishing for a brief second that the carpet might open and swallow her whole.
And when she finally dares to look up again, both men are still smiling.
The laughter fades gradually, like ripples settling over still water.
Rowan clears his throat softly, the last trace of amusement leaving his face as he turns toward Alisha.
For a moment, he seems to hesitate.
Then he gives a small, respectful incline of his head.
"I apologize," he says gently. "We did not mean to embarrass you."
Valerius lifts his hands and repeats the words through sign, his movements slower this time, careful and clear.
Alisha watches closely.
Her eyes soften a little, and she shakes her head in response, raising her hands to answer.
It is alright.
Valerius gives a faint nod, translating for Rowan with a quiet smile. "She says it is alright."
Rowan's expression eases at that.
"Well then," he says, rising from his seat, the chair giving a soft scrape against the polished floor. "I should return now. I have already taken enough of your morning."
Valerius stands as well.
Alisha steps aside to give them space, the layered fabric of her gown whispering against the floor as she moves.
"I will walk you out," Valerius says.
Together, the three of them leave the sitting room.
The palace corridors stretch long and bright before them, morning sunlight filtering through tall windows and spilling across marble floors in pale gold patterns. Their footsteps echo gently as they walk side by side, passing silent guards and distant servants who bow as the king approaches.
Alisha walks a step behind at first, then gradually beside her father, hands folded neatly in front of her.
They descend the wide staircase toward the main entrance hall, where towering doors stand partly open to the gardens beyond. A cool breeze drifts inside, carrying with it the faint scent of trimmed hedges and winter flowers.
Outside, Rowan's car waits at the foot of the steps, its dark polished body catching the light.
A palace attendant moves forward to open the door.
Rowan pauses before stepping down, turning once more toward Valerius and Alisha.
"It was good to see you again," he says.
Valerius smiles faintly. "Likewise."
Alisha bows politely, lifting the sides of her gown just slightly in practiced grace.
Rowan returns the gesture with a respectful nod before descending the steps toward the waiting car.
Behind him, father and daughter remain at the entrance, watching as he takes his seat.
The car door closes with a soft, final sound.