(Lavinia's POV—Red Wall Castle, The Night That Victory Soured)
Osric's words hit the table like a blade.
"I have seen too much of you crossing the lines, Captain."
The warmth died instantly. Laughter silenced. Even the fire in the braziers seemed to dim.
No one breathed.
Haldor didn't look away. Didn't flinch. Didn't bow, like he finally realized what his place was.
Slowly, his eyes moved from Osric's hand—clenched around his wine glass like he wanted to crush it—to Osric's eyes.
His voice was calm… too calm. "And which line would that be, Grand Duke?"
The tension snapped like ice underfoot.
Rey smirked. Arwin stared very hard at the table. Zerith silently slid his cup just an inch away in case it became a weapon.
Osric leaned back slightly, lips curved in a smile that wasn't a smile. "The line between duty… and desire."
The air froze.
