The silence that followed Reia's words was thick and heavy, broken only by the hum of the Vault's ancient life support.
Then Evelyn stood up, the legs of her chair scraping sharply against the stone floor. "No."
The word was flat, absolute.
All eyes turned to her. Her arms were crossed, her knuckles white where she gripped her sleeves. The usual playful light in her eyes was gone, replaced by a hard, protective fire.
"Evelyn—" Reia began, her tone weary.
"I said no," Evelyn repeated, her voice low but cutting. "We are not having a conversation about fighting Lucian. Or Lucy. That's not on the table."
"You heard what she said," Reia countered, her own frustration starting to show. "If Alistair gains control of their will—"
