A slow, unreadable calm settled over Nick's face as he finished studying them. Then he smiled, smooth and warm and perfectly neutral.
"It is an honor to finally meet you, Solace. Truly."
His tone carried warmth without overwhelming her. There was no perfume, no sudden movements. He kept three full feet of space between them, exactly enough for her nervous system to stay steady.
His gaze moved briefly to the others, and he nodded with what looked like genuine admiration.
"And your crew... the way you held together today says a great deal. I have heard many stories, but seeing it, seeing you, is different."
Wine straightened at that. Dine blinked. Arlenna stepped a little closer to Solace, quietly watching Nick's eyes.
Nick continued with the same gentle, observational tone. It sounded like analysis.
"Your timing. Your instincts. The choices you made under pressure." A small smile touched his lips. "That level of synchronization does not come from training. It comes from trust."
Solace shifted, uncertain what to do with praise that felt accurate. Nick noticed the reaction.
He softened his voice.
"It is rare to see a Sovereign so young lead a crew with that kind of clarity. You should be proud."
He turned to Thiago.
"The way you moved to shield the others... any experienced fighter would call that textbook instinct."
Thiago straightened, surprised by how precisely the compliment fit.
Nick looked to Arlenna.
"And you, your timing was impeccable. Anticipation like that cannot be taught. It is felt."
Arlenna's brows rose slightly, not flustered, only acknowledging the truth in what he said.
Finally, Nick regarded all three of them again.
"You are a strong crew. Stronger than you realize."
He exhaled, a small breath that felt like polite relief, as if he truly was glad they had arrived safely.
"It has been a long day for all of you. I can see that. You handled it better than most adults I have worked with."
He let the words settle over them.
When their shoulders eased just a fraction, he stepped aside and gestured toward the open doorway. His movement remained gentle and unpressured. Solace still had a choice.
"If you would like, we can go inside. I asked for the hall to be adjusted for comfort. Warm lighting, quiet space, nothing overwhelming." A faint, smile. "I thought it might help."
Nick stepped aside and allowed them to enter first. It was polite, and also deliberate. He understood Solace hated being crowded, so the three of them walked in with plenty of open space.
The hall was exactly as he had arranged earlier. Warm lighting. No strong smells. The air moved lightly enough to keep the room from feeling stagnant. Chairs were upholstered with soft textures instead of harsh wood.
As the door settled behind them, a figure emerged from a side hallway. Nick's mendor.
She was a small woman, soft-featured. Her eyes were steady and calm, the kind that made people breathe easier without knowing why. Her simple robes flowed quietly when she moved, everything about her was built for comfort, not command.
Nick glanced toward her.
"This is my mendor. She will not need to touch you unless you ask. She works at a distance."
Arlenna nodded politely. Thiago relaxed. Solace did not flinch, which had clearly been the goal.
The healer stepped forward and offered a calm bow. Her movements were soft and precise. Nick added something quiet and intentional.
"She is here for you, Solace."
The mendor lifted her gaze. Her eyes kind. Her hands stayed at her sides.
"If you allow it, I can tend to your injuries. No contact needed."
Solace blinked, surprised. Most healers demanded touch, pressure. This one remained well outside Solace's personal space.
Nick watched her reaction without appearing to.
The healer drew a slow breath and released it. A pale shimmer pulsed outward from her chest. It touched Solace without feeling like touch. Warmth swept through her bruises, across her cut lip, deep into the ache along her ribs.
The pain softened, then faded, then disappeared.
Solace's shoulders lowered half an inch. It was the first sign of relief she had shown since the arena.
Arlenna saw and simply felt relieved. Thiago nodded in appreciation.
The mendor stepped back,
"All done. If anything still aches, tell me and I can adjust it."
Solace pressed her fingers lightly to her ribs. No pain.
Nick smiled, small and warm.
"She specializes in distance work. I thought that would be more comfortable for you."
"Food will be ready in a moment," Nick added. "And it does not matter if you are hungry or not. I had a few options prepared anyway."
His tone was gentle, as if this were normal courtesy
"You can choose whatever feels right," he continued. "Or nothing at all. The options are there for comfort, not obligation."
Thiago seemed grateful. Solace did not tense. She actually relaxed.
The hall felt warm, safe, and deliberately arranged.
Nick stood only a few feet away, observing their micro-reactions with quiet precision. Never too much attention. Never too little. Just enough. Always just enough.
Nick led them down the quiet hallway toward a dining space prepared for travelers. Arlenna and Thiago followed behind him, worn from the long journey, the thought of food feeling like relief rather than obligation.
He pushed the door open and gestured for them to enter. He always allowed them to walk ahead of him, never crowding Solace, never pushing her pace.
Inside, the room was calm and carefully arranged. Solace could tell, without anyone saying a word, that Nick had adjusted everything specifically for her comfort.
The door to the inner kitchen swung open, and a woman stepped out.
Nick glanced over.
"This is Isabella," he said, tone easy and matter-of-fact, as if he knew she wouldn't speak.
She was small, only a little taller than Solace, around five-two, with the same compact presence that made her movements easy to miss. Her skin was a smooth light brown, catching the soft light in a way that made her seem both grounded and quietly radiant. Her hair fell in long, loose curls down her back, dark brown threaded with lighter shades that shifted gently as she moved.
Her hazel eyes were steady and unreadable, the kind of eyes that missed nothing and revealed even less.
Her face was blank, not annoyed, not bored, simply neutral. Focused. Her movements were efficient and clean, every motion precise and practiced. She placed dishes onto the table one by one without seeking eye contact, without any unnecessary flourish. Roasted vegetables, soft breads, mild soups. Food meant for tired people. Food meant not to overwhelm.
Solace's gaze tracked the tray Isabella carried. Near the back, set slightly apart from the others, was a small plate that clearly belonged to her. The textures were soft without being mushy, the portions balanced and simple.
Arlenna shot her a quiet look, something like surprise flickering in her eyes. "Oh," the look said. "He really did prepare things around you."
But Solace wasn't looking at Arlenna anymore.
She was watching Isabella.
The blank expression.
The fast, sure hands.
The absolute lack of wasted movement.
Isabella set everything down and stepped away without a sound.
Nick smiled faintly.
"I asked her to make something that would be comfortable for you."
Solace didn't respond. She was still watching Isabella.
After the last tray came out, the dessert selection was small, mild pastries and sweet breads, nothing Solace cared for. But beside them, Isabella placed a small bowl of fruit. Not soft. Slightly unripe, firm, cut into perfect bite-sized pieces. Exactly how Solace preferred it.
Isabella stepped back again, her expression unchanged.
Solace stared at the bowl for a quiet moment. Then she rose. Not abruptly. Not loudly. Just an invisible movement. She took the bowl with her and slipped out of the room, her steps so light Thiago never noticed her leave. He was still focused on his own plate.
Arlenna glanced over a moment later, only realizing then that Solace was gone. Her brows lifted slightly, not in alarm but in simple acknowledgment.
Thiago looked up when he noticed Arlenna searching,But by then Solace was already moving down the hallway, eating the firm fruit one piece at a time as she traced Isabella's path with soundless footsteps, drawn to the girl with the blank face and perfect knife skills.
Solace slipped into the kitchen as if she belonged there.
The kitchen was warm and quiet. Isabella stood at the counter washing her hands, her face still empty of expression.
Solace stepped inside, holding her bowl.
"Thank you," she said.
Isabella jumped. Solace had startled her. She turned quickly, eyes wide for one heartbeat before settling back into neutrality.
"For... what?" she asked.
Solace lifted the bowl.
"For this. Nobody makes food the way I actually like it."
Something flickered in Isabella's expression, a small internal shift rather than any visible softening. She looked at the bowl, then at Solace.
"Do you want more?"
"Yes," Solace said immediately.
Isabella nodded, efficient as always, and reached for another small handful of firm fruit from a container she had prepared earlier. She added it to Solace's bowl, paused, then said, "There's more if you want it."
Solace's face, usually unreadable, brightened just a little. She scanned the room and found a small stool tucked against one of the counters. She sat down quietly, settling the bowl in her lap. The kitchen hummed with a warm, steady calm that wrapped around them both.
Isabella returned to her station, pulling out a cutting board and a knife. Solace took another bite of fruit, watching Isabella the way she watched a puzzle she wanted to understand.
"It's good," she said.
Isabella didn't turn around, but Solace saw her shoulders ease in the faintest way.
"It wasn't hard," Isabella replied.
Her knife moved with perfect precision, every slice identical. After a moment, she added, "I knew you'd like it a little unripe. You asked for your food cooked the same way, firm instead of soft. It made sense."
Solace paused mid-chew. "You noticed that?"
Isabella glanced over her shoulder, almost offended. "I notice everything in a kitchen."
Solace lifted the bowl slightly. "You're cool."
Isabella froze again. Only for a split second, but enough to register.
She turned back slowly. "I cut things. You fight. How am I cool?"
"Because you can do things I can't," Solace said. "And you're really good at them."
Isabella stared at her, her expression neutral but her eyes processing the words.
Her voice lowered in a rare, unguarded tone. "I'm not from this continent."
Solace's chewing slowed. "Where are you from?"
"The East," Isabella said. "The Blackthorn Dynasty."
She resumed cutting, each slice perfect.
"My family didn't teach me to cook because I liked it," she said quietly. "They forced me to. When my soothsayer powers didn't activate, they needed a way to make me... useful. Or at least manageable."
She set the knife down with careful precision.
"Blackthorns trade their daughters for alliances. My sister had the visions. I didn't. So they trained me in domestic skills—"
Her voice trailed just enough to show what that training had really meant.
Solace's stomach twisted. Isabella wiped her hands, still expressionless.
"My father sent me here," she said.
Solace's brows pulled in. "Why?"
"He needed to get rid of me. And Nick needed a cook." Isabella spoke without hesitation or shame. "So my father sent me across the sea and told Nick, she won't be in the way."
Solace stared, horrified in the quiet way she got. Wide eyes, still posture.
"It made sense," Isabella added with an almost mechanical shrug. "He needed a cook. I wasn't needed at home."
Solace's voice dropped, gentler and sharper. "Isabella... that's awful."
Isabella tilted her head slightly, confused by Solace's reaction. "It's just what happened."
She went back to slicing fruit as if she hadn't just described being shipped across continents like extra luggage. Like it was the smallest detail in the world
"They judged the version of you they wanted. Not the one who actually exists."
Isabella's knife stilled again. It was not dramatic, only a soft stop. Solace saw it, the first fracture in Isabella's blankness. Not sadness, just recognition. A moment where Isabella's world shifted by one degree.
"My family didn't think I was anything special either," Solace said.
Isabella's eyes flickered toward her, surprised and skeptical. "You?"
Solace nodded. "I'm the weakest in my family. But comparing yourself to other people only makes you feel smaller. Comparing yourself to yourself helps you grow."
Isabella looked at her for a long, still moment. The knife hovered above the cutting board.
"You're strange," she said softly.
Solace nodded proudly. "I know."
The kitchen stayed quiet, warm and steady. Two girls from two harsh families found something soft and real between fruit and knife work.
Solace finished her bite of fruit and kept watching Isabella work. Then she asked, "What do you want to do, if you could pick?"
Isabella paused, the knife held mid-air. She looked at Solace for longer than usual. "Can I be honest?"
Solace nodded.
Isabella set the knife down with a soft click. "I actually don't mind cooking. It's quiet, predictable, peaceful."
"So you like it?" Solace tilted her head.
Isabella exhaled through her nose in a tiny huff. "I just wish I could cook for people who care more. People who are actually nice."
Solace blinked, confused. "Nick is super nice."
Isabella froze. She slowly turned her head and gave Solace a look that was not rude or mocking, only tired and knowing.
"Solace," she said. "I'm going to tell you something because I like you."
Solace straightened instinctively. Isabella stepped closer and lowered her voice.
"That's one side of him. The side he lets everyone see."
Solace's eyes narrowed a fraction.
"Nick says exactly what you want to hear until you relax around him," Isabella continued. Her voice was steady and razor sharp. "He studies you. He shapes himself around you. And when your guard finally drops..." She tapped the counter lightly with one finger. "...that's when the real version comes out."
Something cold settled behind Solace's ribs. "What do you mean?"
"If you pay attention, really pay attention, the mask slips sometimes. Just for a second."
Solace's chest tightened.
Isabella's face stayed blank, but her voice became deadly serious. "Solace, listen to me. He is not a nice person." She paused. "He is evil. And he does evil things. You just haven't seen it yet."
Solace froze with the bowl in her lap. Her mind raced through every small moment, every detail she noticed, everything she did not.
Isabella saw the look forming in Solace's eyes and shut it down instantly. She shook her head sharply. "No. I've said too much."
She stepped forward and gently but urgently took Solace's elbow, guiding her off the stool.
"I can't put you in danger. You shouldn't even be in here talking to me like this."
She added another small handful of crisp, unripe fruit to Solace's bowl, almost like a mother packing food for a child. Then she turned Solace around and walked her toward the door. Isabella's hand was steady on her back, not pushing but guiding.
"Just be careful," she whispered. "Please."
She opened the kitchen door.
Solace's breath caught.
Nick stood right outside. Close. Too close.
For the first time, Solace saw it, the look Isabella warned her about. A flicker of annoyance. Sharp, cold and real. It lasted less than a second.
Then the mask clicked back on. Warm smile. Gentle eyes. Open posture.
"There she is," Nick said. "Where did you run off to?"
His tone was light, pleasant and perfectly practiced.
"She wanted more fruit," Isabella replied in a blank voice before Solace could even breathe.
Nick held Isabella's gaze for one long, loaded second. A silent exchange. A warning. Isabella did not blink.
Then Nick turned the mask back to Solace with ease. "Come on. Let's head back."
Solace stepped out of the kitchen with the bowl of fruit in hand. Her mind echoed with Isabella's words. For the first time, she was not sure which version of Nick she had just seen.