Chapter 57.
Victor’s lips twitched into the whisper of a smile, a rare flicker of amusement in his stony expression. "I’d expect nothing less, ma'am," Victor replied, his voice losing its serrated edge for the first time since the sun had risen. The silence that followed was different than the one that had greeted them earlier. It was no longer brittle or accusatory; it was heavy with the gravity of a shared understanding. Eliza leaned back in her chair, her eyes scanning the two of them- not as a mother looking for a scandal, but as a woman who had spent decades reading the subtle language of soldiers. She saw the way Victor’s thumb stroking Briar’s knuckles was an unconscious, grounding rhythm. She saw the way Briar’s shoulders, usually tight with the stress of the bakery and the weight of Lower
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