They walked in silence for a while after that, the northern districts of Velkaris unfolding around them in orderly stone and quiet wealth. The streets here were wider, cleaner, lined with buildings that spoke of stability and power rather than urgency. It was the kind of place where conflicts were discussed behind closed doors instead of fought in the open.
Trafalgar kept his gaze forward, matching Rhosyn's pace without effort. The question had been sitting with him since the night before, pressing gently but persistently, like something waiting for permission to exist.
"Rhosyn," he said at last, voice calm, measured. "Can I ask you something about my mother?"
She stopped.
Not abruptly, but enough to break the rhythm between them. For a moment, she did not turn. Her shoulders rose and fell with a quiet breath, and Trafalgar could see the hesitation settle into her posture, subtle but unmistakable.
Rhosyn exhaled, then faced him.
