“If you’ll follow me, Rogue King, I will guide you to your suite,” Willow said.
Her voice was polite.
Controlled.
Too controlled.
She didn’t look at Diana as she spoke. She couldn’t. Because if she did, she knew Diana would see it—the storm she was trying so hard to keep buried. The confusion. The hurt. The betrayal she didn’t even know how to name yet.
So she turned instead.
Focused on the task.
On the role.
On anything but what she was feeling.
Damon watched her with quiet interest, but Willow refused to meet his gaze.
“After you,” he said simply.
Conall glanced at his king.
Something had changed.
It was subtle.
So subtle that if he hadn’t known Damon for years, he might have missed it entirely.
But something had shifted.
And Conall didn’t like that he didn’t know what it
