Chapter 90: Tell Her Your A….
Zylan sat on the velvet sofa, his long legs elegantly crossed. His posture exuded the composed grace he was known for, yet his neutral expression betrayed no emotion. The room, bathed in the warm glow of the firelight, was silent save for the occasional crackle from the fireplace. The faint sound seemed amplified in the oppressive quiet, filling the space like a thunderstorm brooding in the distance, its power waiting to erupt.
The stillness was heavy, as though the very air had thickened, pressing against the walls and those within them.
Across from him, the lady sat stiffly, her posture upright and rigid, her gaze distant as though lost in another world. Her fingers, delicate and pale, brushed the edge of her dark cloak—a movement so subtle it might have gone unnoticed if not for its frequency. The gesture betrayed her unease, the nervous energy that buzzed beneath her composed exterior.
Zylan remained silent, his piercing eyes fixed on her, as if willing her to speak. The weight of his gaze was suffocating, a quiet demand she could not ignore.
Finally, his voice broke the stillness.
"Elsa," he said, sharp but calm. "Speak."
The single word shattered the fragile peace of the room.
Elsa flinched, startled by the impatience in his tone. She had known him for centuries, had seen him in every possible state—calm, calculating, even furious—but this was new. The sharpness in his voice hinted at something deeper, something hidden beneath his cool demeanor.
Still, she composed herself quickly, her gaze lowering briefly before she dared to meet his eyes.
"I still cannot believe that someone like her... someone who looks like that... was born, and I didn’t know," Elsa murmured, her voice carrying a strange mixture of awe and apprehension.
Zylan said nothing, but the slight narrowing of his eyes suggested his patience was thinning.