“Was that a proposal?”
Marcus did not look away.
The corridor still carried the noise of the hearing behind them—boots, noble voices, the scrape of benches being cleared. Evelyn stood with Elias’s silver command bar closed in one hand and her injured shoulder held carefully beneath her uniform.
Marcus remained one pace away.
“No.”
The answer struck harder than she expected.
Then he continued.
“A proposal would ask something of you.”
His gaze moved briefly to the closed council doors.
“You are still bound to Albert in ways neither of us can pretend are simple. Celeste has turned that bond into a weapon against you, against him, and against every decision made in that hall.”
The mate bond tightened at Albert’s name.
Evelyn kept her face still.
Marcus noticed. He always noticed.
