"You called me."
Aeliana met his gaze, her amber eyes unwavering, unflinching. She did not bow her head, did not look away. If anything, she was waiting—measuring him as much as he had measured her.
Thaddeus held that gaze for a long moment before he gave a slow, deliberate nod.
"Indeed, I have called you here."
Aeliana let out a quiet exhale, her lips parting—not in relief, not in acknowledgment, but in something far sharper.
"Ah," she murmured, tilting her head slightly. "So now that I'm cured, you can finally bear to see my face?"
The words weren't loud. They weren't even biting. But the weight behind them—the challenge laced within each syllable—landed with precision.
Thaddeus did not react. His expression remained as composed as ever, his fingers still resting against the polished surface of his desk. He had expected hostility. Resentment.
She had always hated being locked away.
