The silence between them stretched.
The fleet continued its steady course through the waters, the cheers and celebrations of the knights fading into the background, becoming nothing more than distant noise. The waves lapped gently against the hull, the rhythmic sound filling the space between father and daughter.
Duke Thaddeus remained still, his gaze never leaving Aeliana. She stood with her back straight, her expression unreadable, her arms loosely crossed as if she had already braced herself for whatever conversation would come next.
But none came.
There were countless things he wanted to ask.
'Are you sure?'
He had seen it with his own eyes—her skin, once marked with sickness, was now flawless. Her stance, once fragile and careful, was now firm. The sickness that had chained her to her chambers for years, the one that no healer, no mage, no scholar had been able to cure… Was it truly gone?
