While carrying out her duties for her lord, Ruziel’s focus was as sharp as the steel at her hip. The corridors of House Valenfort were crowded with hurried attendants and echoing voices, yet she moved with her usual precision—until a sudden collision broke her rhythm.

Her hand instinctively reached out, steadying the other before either could fall.

“Forgive me,” she said, voice low but composed. A hint of concern flickered in her amethyst eyes. “I did not mean to harm you.”

The apology was brief, but sincere—the kind that came from discipline rather than habit.