The crowd didn’t move for a long time.
Aria stood on the steps until her legs ached, waiting for someone to throw the first stone, shout the first lie, do anything to break the quiet. No one did. They just knelt. Like they’d been waiting a thousand years for permission to stop running.
“Get up,” she said finally. Her voice wasn’t loud, but it carried. “You don’t owe me that.”
A few stirred. Most didn’t.
Kieran shifted behind her, muttering, “Gods, I hate speeches. Now we’ve got a mess of weeping strangers and no exit plan.”
Darian’s hand brushed hers, brief and steady. The bond hummed, quiet and warm. _Let them have this moment._
She let them have it.
Envoy Mara stepped forward first. “Take them to the square,” she told the guards. “Give them water. Send word to the healers.
