The silence stretches. Laura does not look away. For weeks, she has seen him as a symbol of the Duke, the Commander, the Monster who tore her from the trees. But now, as she studies the lines around his eyes, the silver in his beard, and the way his shoulders seem to sag under the invisible weight of his own regrets, something shifts. She doesn't see the tyrant. She sees an older man, battle-scarred and profoundly broken by his own nature.
She nods once, a small, almost imperceptible movement. Then she rises.
Hudson remains frozen, uncertain if she is fleeing or something else. She walks toward the door, her skirts whispering against the stone floor. Just as she reaches the threshold, she pauses and glances back over her shoulder. Her silver blue eyes hold his.
"Are you coming?" she ask
