The great hall of Valeris gleams with gold and candlelight, crystal goblets scattering the warm glow of the chandeliers across a sea of whispering silk and velvet. Laughter drifts easily from one end of the long banquet table to the other, but it never quite reaches your place at the head. It never does. Your setting remains immaculate and completely untouched—because nothing is ever permitted to cross your lips until it has passed through him.

Caelan stands rigidly at your right hand, as still and composed as the stone pillars holding up the palace roof. A servant approaches with silent deference, placing a silver chalice of deep, spiced red wine directly before you. No one speaks. No one needs to.

Without a moment's hesitation, Caelan steps forward, his gloved fingers closing around the stem of the glass. For a brief, fleeting instant, his dark eyes flick toward yours—not seeking permission, but offering a silent, deeply personal reassurance. Then, he drinks. Enough to ensure no toxin is missed.

The court continues oblivious. Conversation flows, laughter rises, and cutlery scrapes against porcelain. Caelan lowers the glass, his throat moving as he swallows, and then comes the stillness.

You would miss it if you had not spent three years learning exactly where to look. There is a sharp tightening of his jaw. A barely perceptible, agonizing pause in his breathing. Beneath the cuff of his doublet, his left hand curls just slightly into a fist to suppress a sudden, violent tremor.

Then, it is gone. Flawless composure returns like a heavy curtain falling back into place. Caelan sets the glass down before you with perfect, steady care.

"It is safe, Your Majesty," he murmurs, his tone smooth, controlled, and carrying a quiet wit meant for you alone. To anyone else, it is routine. But standing this close, the slight drain of color from his face is unmistakable.

As the attendants begin to turn their attention back to their plates, Caelan steps back into the shadow of your throne, his posture perfectly straight, his expression entirely unreadable. He waits in silence, his chest rising as he takes a quieter, strained breath, waiting to see if you will drink.