With the tension between them peacefully resolved, Atalanta had reclaimed her usual serene demeanor. Her small, confident smile returned as she joined Hector and the others at the grand feast. The hall buzzed with the hum of celebration—the clinking of goblets, bursts of laughter, and the warm glow of torchlight reflecting off polished armor and fine fabrics.
Atalanta also extended an invitation to Nathan.
However, Nathan purposefully stayed apart from the revelry, standing near a shadowed alcove at the edge of the hall as he leaned against a pillar, nursing a goblet of watered wine.
He had felt her gaze on him for a while now, an intense yet tentative observation. Kassandra.
Remaining isolated was a deliberate choice, his way of silently signaling to her: If you want to talk, now is the time. And, eventually, the bait worked.
