Lucien's silence had become a distraction.
Days passed, and he did not scold me, did not bark orders, did not even let his gaze fall on me. It should have been a relief, a reprieve from the constant sting of his cold words. But it wasn't.
It was worse.
Because silence meant invisibility. And I began to wonder if I even existed to him at all.
By the third day, I broke. After dinner, I slipped away from the west wing, carrying a bundle of herbs to the garden. The moonlight spilled silver across the paths, and for once, I let myself stop. I leaned against the stone wall, clutching the bundle too tightly, my chest aching with shame. I couldn't voice.
"You're hurting your hands again."
I flinched, turning fast. Elizer stood a few steps away, shadows clinging to the hard lines of his shoul
