Elara slides naturally into place behind the counter the moment Eis steps outside, hands finding the cloth, movements practiced by now. The kitchen feels different without Eis in it—too quiet, like a room holding its breath.
No one speaks.
Ronan stands near the wall, arms folded, expression unreadable. Kael leans against a table, pretending very hard not to look toward the door. Lira remains where she was seated, Nia hovering at her side.
The silence stretches.
Then Tomm breaks it—far too loudly.
“Is he asking her out?”
Every head turns.
Nia gasps and sharply turns, grabbing the hem of Lira’s sleeve. “Is that what’s happening? Is he asking Miss Eis to be his partner?”
Lira exhales softly and rests a hand on Nia’s head, fingers combing through her hair. Her eyes flick—just briefly—toward Ronan. His face is stone. Not angry. Not upset. Just… still.
She looks back down at Nia.
“I can’t be sure,” Lira says gently. “But… it’s likely.”
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Nia hums, loud and thoughtful. “Hmmm.”
She frowns a little. “Mr. Alaric is nice. But I like things how they are now.”
Elara nods from behind the counter, not looking up. “As long as Miss Eis is happy,” she says. “And we all stay together.”
Kael shifts, then glances at Ronan. “So,” he says lightly, “what’s your move, captain?”
Ronan doesn’t answer right away.
When he does, his voice is calm. Measured. Honest.
“Whatever Eis decides, I’ll respect it,” he says. “I just want her to keep the life she built. If that means Alaric’s part of it now… so be it.”
He looks away.
Inside, something tightens. He doesn’t name it. Doesn’t allow it room.
The door opens.
Eis steps back into view, a tense cool air following her. She closes the door, gaze sweeping the room.
“We’re closing up,” she says evenly.
No questions. No explanations.
Team Argent moves immediately—chairs stacked, counters wiped, lanterns dimmed. It’s familiar. Comfortable.
As they work, Kael finally breaks.
“I can’t help it,” he says, grinning. “What did the knight want?”
Lira smacks his arm. “Kael.”
He shrugs. “Everyone’s curious.”
They are.
Eis ties off the last cloth, then answers simply, “He said he’ll be leaving soon. His task here is finished.”
That’s all.
No one presses.
The lanterns go dark one by one.
And whatever tension lingered settles—not gone, but quieted—held carefully between people who already know what matters most.

